Holyrude

I'm typing this straight in with ease as I'm revising for an exam tomorrow 9 am and it's not going good.

Will Scotland one day be a cold, dark, damp country and in Edinburgh beneath the streetlights and the northern European chatter of tourists and locals in pubs, the Scottish Parliament is in this fabulous building at night with bright harsh lights blazing out of the windows past the blinds, and worn down men in pale fabric suits are shuffling into the building with suitcases, knowing they're not really able to legislate on anything but a few devolved matters. After the joy when they first got independence, now thirty or fourty years later the reality is that their efforts effect bugger all in the big scheme. And they just shuffle in, tired, sighing anyway. And corruption is rife - not political, but taboo dalliances in the corridors - other men's wives, alcohol, sleazy dancing and maybe a cheap cigar.

I hope for Scotland, not.