A bet

Husband and I have made a bet. Well, not so much a bet, as a guess. He thinks it will be a No vote. I think it will be a Yes. We put percentages on it, but I don't want to say them out loud. Not that it could possibly influence the result, but somehow, it doesn't feel quite right. I'll tell you after the event.

I'm getting up early to vote before taking 10-yo to school, and going to work. No reason to do so, because I could easily vote in the evening. It's just that I know I won't be able to settle to anything all day, until I've voted, so I might as well sacrifice a half-hour in the morning, rather than the whole day.

I hope we stay together, "Better Together",  but I think I've also made my peace with the idea that this northern ship will be sailing away on its own, if the Yes vote prevails. I'm not starry-eyed about what that will look like: economic recession, parties fighting, politicians not delivering what they've promised. Why would the politics of Edinburgh be any different to the politics of Westminster, when all is said and done? But I have, in odd minutes, felt myself sprinkled by the occasional splash from the wave of optimism - ill-founded though I believe it to be. Whatever the Yes/No outcome, isn't it time for change of some kind? You'd be a hard person, indeed, if you remained unaffected by the mood of the moment.

If Scotland becomes independent, I will seek to make it a success - for my children and grandchildren. Two of my children have never lived in England, and maybe they never will. Their children may never hold a British passport. I'm grateful for the time I lived in America, because it did prise me away from some deep sense that I never even knew I had, that being English is somehow best. I know I can be at home north or south of whatever kind of border tomorrow's vote forges between the two nations.

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In need of an identity

I am a member of a very select group within British Mummy Bloggers. I'm one of a small number who don't have a profile picture. But times are a-changing, and I thought it was a good moment to show my face.

Not literally. Oh no no no. I like hiding away behind words. And that is why I have chosen the following as my profile picture.

I played with various type faces. This one is called Britannic Bold, which I thought might be apt, but it's too brash, don't you think?

Then there was this. I can't remember what it's called, but 12-yo said it was cool.



But I decided to stick with the first, because it was the closest I could find to American cursive, which is so iconic. It just says "America" to me. Personally, I can't see the point of teaching generations of school kids two entirely different styles of writing. They learn printing for three laborious years, and then just as they've mastered that, they have to knuckle under (almost literally) and learn a completely different style. You go from what one teacher described to me as "sticks and balls" to this curly and ornate script that isn't far from copperplate. In Britain, it seems to me that you learn one set of letters, and then you simply learn how to join them up. For those of you who understand these things (and I don't include myself among you), I think I'm a fan of D'Nealian writing.

Enough of all that. In sum, I thought Iota in American cursive script would be a suitable visual cue for this blog. I used a lower case i because the upper case I in American cursive is pretty much unrecognisable (several of the upper case cursive letters are, actually, which is another of my beefs with it). A capital I looks like a T or a P, and I didn't want to become Tota or Pota.

You probably want to know why it's nailed to a tree in my back yard. Well, that's just what I did. I expect there's something sub-conscious going on. Perhaps it's religious imagery. Perhaps it's meant to be like a 'Wanted' poster. Maybe I just wanted to hang it on the tree that I look at out of the window when I sit at the computer. Who knows? I certainly don't.

So what do you think?

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