Us and Them

This blog post has spent several days in my head, numerous times the tips of my fingers have hovered over a keyboard ready to write but I’ve never got past the first few lines due to my increasingly sore head.  Like a sickly heroine from an Austen novel I'm prone to feeling lightheaded and faint from being in ‘the wrong sort’ of light.  This is always worst when it’s gloomy outside and we have to use the dodgy overhead lights found in all offices that somehow bounce pain straight into the back of my brain.  Anyway, this is finally me committing words to screen – hurrah!

So what pertinent, amazing thoughts have I been thinking during those lost days?  Mainly they have been about doing up my new flat and my imminent bridesmaid duties.  Amongst all that, I also had a conversation about the differences between the Scottish and the English sparked by Andy Murray and the incredibly boring 'is he British or Scottish' debate.  He is of course both so let’s all stop having that conversation and making ‘Come on Tim’ comments too while we're at it, it’s incredibly tedious.

I’m Scottish and have lived down south for almost four years (a year and a bit in Norwich of all places and the rest in London town) and before I moved I never ever thought about my cultural identity.  Since I’ve been here it’s something I have to talk about more often that I’d like.  Obviously there are differences, my accent, words I say that I don’t realise - until uttering and seeing confused reactions - are colloquial, food I crave but somehow hasn’t found its way into the English diet.  But there are only three truly fundamental differences between us and them, well, as far as I can tell anyway.

1. Talking about the weather

In Scotland it rains A LOT, it's cold A LOT and when there is no rain the sky is still an ominous shade of grey.  So, on days where the sun shines and it is above 15°C we rejoice at our good fortune.  In England people seem to be in a permanent state of confusion as to why it is not a tropical paradise.  Unless it is beautifully sunny I am subjected to several conversations a day about why the weather is so bad.  It’s not bad, weather cannot be categorised as ‘bad’ until your house is flooded or you’re snowed in. When that happens, let's have that chat.

2.  Zebra crossings

The rules of the road are that when a pedestrian walks on a zebra crossing cars MUST stop.  In Scotland this seems to be understood and people walk onto the road and expect the people in the cars to know what to do.  In England this rule seems to not be taught to anyone.  I walk past two zebra crossings on my way to work and every day see people dithering at the side of the road waiting for the traffic to stop.  Hint, it will not stop until you step on the bloody road.

3. Puns

I like to pride myself on being fairly amusing and being able to find comedy in most things.  There is only one form of humour that I do not understand – puns.  The English LOVE a pun.  Up until moving I think I heard a pun-based joke as rarely as I saw sunshine.  Now I hear them regularly and am unable to respond because I just don’t get it.

Now, I’m no anthropologist so this is just my anecdotal musings.  However, I’m pretty sure that if David Cameron worked on the three things above then there’d be no independence debate and we'd be one big happy family.

Smog

It floats above us, clinging to the air - heavy and thick.

We move tentatively, unsure how to manoeuvre around what looms over us.

Eyes meet, transmitting silent signals, testing to see if we should continue the pretence of there being nothing wrong. Our bodies shift our weight as we squirm to find comfort where we sit together but there is none to be found.

We exchange words, uttered in the knowledge that they are loaded with meanings we dare not confront. We continue in this manner for some time, our eyes distracted by the moving images on the television screen whilst our minds take note of every movement, every potential thought of the other.

Above us the smog grows thicker, too dense to penetrate. To attempt to dispel it now seems impossible. Instead, we sit uneasy in the knowledge that - for the moment at least - it shall remain undisturbed, it will not be discussed. We allow it to fester until we are unable to move due to its presence.

Our bodies drift slowly towards one another. The distance we allowed to stay between us diminished as if we are trying to huddle together for protection against that which hovers above us. We can feel it close-in around about us, we are seeking shelter from each other.

Arms so close that the hairs protecting either skin intertwines with the others, they stand on end as if electricity has been passed through our bodies. Hearts racing, breathing becoming a little shallower, our eyes focus on the screen, attempting to propel ourselves away from this awkwardness.

Grey

Glasgow is grey - the sky, the buildings, the Clyde. So similar in tone that they merge into one impenetrable mass on the skyline.

I shift myself over to the side of my desk in order to gain a better view of the outside world. The bright strobe lighting of the office makes the dullness outside even more striking.

The rain that is falling is so fine I have to squint to make it out on its journey from sky to ground or river. It has not yet been raining long enough for puddles to form on the pavement but the thick, heavy cloud that hangs in the sky indicates that these will be there soon enough. I watch the river dimple millions of times from the tiny drops of water joining its swaying mass.

My attention is focused on the view for so long that the screensaver pops onto my computer monitor from lack of any work being performed, I notice this but am not bothered enough to cease my staring. I become startled when the occasional boat or person splinters the scene.

There are few perks in the job that brings me to sit at this desk and look at this view. Many people assume when I tell them where I work that there is an element of glamour attached to the tasks I perform every day - these people are wrong. In my months at this desk, in this office, at this television station - it is only the view that I consider a perk.