I read this morning that Sir Sean Connery has been expressing the opinion that the Scottish people should be allowed their voice through a referendum on an independent Scotland. He made the comments while talking about the Homecoming Scotland drive the Scottish Council – sorry, Government – are pushing ahead with.
What I don’t understand is, if he really wants the best for Scotland why doesn’t he live here and pay his taxes like everyone else? And why, after years of backing independence for Scotland and a full break away from the United Kingdom, does he accept a knighthood from Her Majesty the Queen?
Mr Connery likes the idea of an independent Scotland but he doesn’t choose to live here, so won’t see the negative effect it will have. Come to think of it now, he doesn’t see the reality on the streets today never mind tomorrow. How can he all the way from the Bahamas?
Deep down, Connery knows Scotland needs to be part of the UK for it to flourish and stay strong. Without it we would be nothing. He also knows we need the Monarchy and that it holds a greater reign over us than he dare to ever say out loud; why else would he bow to The Queen and accept her honour?
I’m sure Connery loves Scotland and loves her deeply, but I don’t think he does so any more than the ordinary kid on the street. Just because he’s always banging on about the SNP doesn’t make him any more patriotic than I am, it just means he’s misguided.
I spent most of my writing time today polishing off a couple of short stories for submission. Didn’t get as much done on Blood Ties as I wanted but then I did do 12 hours at the day job with only a 10-minute lunch, so when I got home I was knackered.
Gail made roast duck for dinner, which absolutely devine.
The English Teacher came back; my fourth rejection this month.
I’ve got quite a lot to tie up for the end of the month – not sure where I am on the GDR front – because I’m away with the squadron this weekend for a wee trip. We’re UK-bound this time, what with the exchange rate between the Pound and the Euro being so bad, we put the idea of heading to Europe somewhere on the back-burner. York will see us landing in our kilts sometime on Saturday morning. I can’t wait; I understand the pubs serve very nice ale indeed.