So Husband was right

Husband was right. The No vote prevailed. He had guessed it would be 47% vs 55%. I, on the other hand, was wrong, and quite wrong. For all the closeness of the polls predictions, I had guessed the Yes vote would have a decisive yes, and put a figure of 65% vs 35% on it.

I'm relieved, but, because I am a contrary soul with something of a natural inclination to rebel (it's genetic), I feel a kind of weird disappointment too. I voted No, staunchly and whole-heartedly. But I'd got to the point where I really believed Yes was going to win, and so I'd prepared myself. So now, though I'm pleased to stay Better Together, and though I rejoice at the political change that this referendum has sparked, I also can't help feeling like I might feel if I was dressed up in warm clothes and wellies, and trudging out in the rain to a firework display, that's cancelled at the last minute because of the bad weather. I know. I'm a contrary soul.

I was trying to explain to Husband, and I likened it to this. For the last two and a half years or more of living in America, we were trying to get back. Trying hard. Husband would occasionally get a job interview, and we'd think "surely this is it!" I mean, who pays an air fare for a candidate unless they're pretty serious? (We're talking church or academia, not banking or big corporations, by the way, just so you see the context.) And then he wouldn't get the job (loyally, I feel at this point that I need to point out that he's not just rubbish at interviews, which is what you, dear reader, might conclude). Anyway, on one occasion in particular, after a whole string of disappointments, he was interviewed, and, though I deeply wanted to return to the UK, I was not that keen on the opportunity. It was in a city I felt no connection to at all, in a part of the UK that I felt no connection to. I'd googled local house prices and schools, and it just looked... meh. And at that point, I was really enjoying life where we were. I knew we would say yes, and, though the job seemed a bit meh too, I was gearing up to be thrilled for Husband, and I couldn't forget that deep down, I should be glad to be returning home. It had felt like a very long, long two plus years at that point. I really, really didn't like the look of the other side of the divide, but it was, at least, on the other side, and I knew that I would have to find the energy to jump over, and carry the family with me. So when he didn't get that job, I was both mighty relieved (secretly, not able to tell even him), but also disappointed. And I learnt that it's possible, ok, and frankly quite normal, to feel conflicting emotions at the same time. There isn't a "right" emotion to feel. It's not as if you have to choose which one is the proper one, or that one is deeper than the other. You acknowledge them both, as your friends, and let time filter them out.

So, this morning, though happy and relieved, I am all a-jangle. Churned up. I want to acknowledge the pain of the Yes campaign, individuals who have passionately and self-sacrificially worked towards the other outcome, though I'm glad they didn't prevail. But heck, I admire them, and I would have given an independent Scotland a good go. Passion is infectious.

I am also very irritated by the BBC coverage, and the way the story has been hijacked. It's like Scotland has been allowed its moment, and now, guess what? It's all about England again. It's happened with indecent haste. Have you learned nothing, you down South? David Cameron has talked of the "so-called West Lothian question". Well, David, actually, it was and is the West Lothian question, not "so-called" at all. You've just hijacked it, and called it the English question, and now, the BBC seems very determined to talk about England again.

I guess both sides need to shift their attitudes, and that is hard to do. For every one Scot who bears a grudge and spits the word "Westminster" as if it were some axis of English evil, there is a clutch of people in the south of England who think of Scotland as a bolt-on extra, somewhere beyond even Northumbria, nice for walking holidays and romantic scenes in films. There's definitely bridge-building to be done on both sides.

Hurrah for democracy, though. That these questions can be raised, and everyone have a voice. Hurrah that the turn-out was so high. Hurrah that the result was relatively even throughout Scotland, so that the result looks like a wiggling worm round the dividing line. Hurrah that the result was decisive enough, and not 49% vs 51%. But let's take heed. 45% vs 55% is hardly a landslide. The Union is secured, but needs to work harder.

This is what I really feel. I LOVE living in Scotland. I was thrilled to return here from America (we didn't think we probably would). I love having the best of all worlds. I love living near enough the hills that, in a day, we can go and bag a Munro. I love knowing what that even means. I love living in a capital city that thinks parking is a problem, because it doesn't know what living in London is like. I love the sea, and that I can be walking the dog on the dunes, 40 minutes after leaving the city centre. I love the Edinburgh Festival. I loved going to the Commonwealth Games. I love the long light days of summer. I bloody love The Proclaimers. I even love bagpipes (kind of). I love being the only English person at my work, and that being ok (though it's felt a little uncomfortable of late). And now, I love that my children will have the choice, to pursue an English life, or a Scottish one. I love that.

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