It’s very encouraging for the Yes camp. It contradicts other latest polls which have the no camp back in front.
Personally, I’m not allowing myself to get carried away with thinking that the Yes camp will prevail, don’t get me wrong I’d love to see an independent Scotland, but I feel the fear of the unknown will affect many on the day and will probably swing it for the No side.
That said, the race is certainly hotting up to be historic – Can you imagine the ripples throughout these islands if a Yes vote does prevail? Surely it will galvanise nationalism and republicanism on this island? A Yes victory will be a great beating stick for SF to hit the dissidents with i.e. Politics works so give up the gun – we were right to sign up to the GFA which enshrines the right to a referendum and will one day give us our Scottish moment to decide the future of this land.
Go on Scotland be brave, Vote Yes and take the opportunity to control ALL your own affairs, it’s the grown up thing to do for any nation!!
Jude,
Interesting data set.
It’s perceived but difficult to quantify that elderly people tend to be less likely to use the internet. And generally, it’s they whom are more likely to be averse to risking radical changes and the possible absence of a larger poll of these voters would of course skew the result.
Anyway, I imagine the fear-factor will result in ‘YES’ falling short by 3-5% points. But, I dearly hope I’m mistaken and that ‘Scotland The Brave’ lives up to that accolade… f-r-e-e-d-o-m!!!
Scotland being the Home of Golf (HoG) one is tempted to view the scorecard posted today through the Royal and Ancient Eye of Warbeck with his Plus Fours on leg and Hickory Club in hand..
Alas, as there is always one among one’s fourball – let’s call him the Numerate One – who is invariably landed with the task of totting up and later subtracting, adding, multiplying and dividing the four handicapped scores, normally though not necessarily with the assistance of advanced algebra, this is not an option today.
Mainly, even solely, on the basis that one is in the driving range today, alone, all alone, getting in his sneaky weekly hour of practice, involving a plastic bucket containing a hundred assaulted and battered golf balls. Each ball being red splashed with the requisite warning to putative pilferers: ‘This wee ball hae’ been filched’.
Now, as is well known, modest old Perkie has qualities as long as the proverbial par six but, alas, being in possession of an Honours Degree in Differential Calculus is not listed among them. Thus, he is quite unable to submit the bewildering numbers on today’s scorecard to the due rigours of Stapleford.
Apart, that is, from being able to discern, darkly as in a glass of drambui, that the Mrs Doubtfires outnumber the Jock Positives by a parsimonious PIctish mile. Mention of Mrs. D intuitively leads one on to Colin Montgomery. Say what you will about the half-Scottish Monty, there is just no gainsaying the kilt-clad fact that he is the possessor of the sweetest golf swing. Ever. It is like nothing so much as a Schubertian melody.
Thus, with the kind permission of Esteemed Blogmeister one would like to approach today’s blogcard like it was a plain hymn sheet from the local wee kirk.
Beginning (and ending) with A for Auchtermuchty. The four most famous sons of this wee toon in Fife are musicians: reading, l to r, Charlie and Craig Reid, Sir Jimmy Shand and Sir John Arnott.
Aughtermuchty is rumoured to be derived from the Leprechaun, Uachtar na Muc / Height of the Hogs.
Craig and Charlie , who used to be identical twins until one or the other jettisoned his black, hornrimmed Buddy Holly glasses, proclaimed themselves at an early age to be on the ‘Och, aye’ side in the (then) longdistance, far off Referendum. As is instanced by this re-release of an old song of their’s, ‘Cap in Hand’:
‘I can tell the difference between margarine and butter
I can say ‘Saskatchewan’ without a stutter;
I can understand why Stranraer are so lowly
They could save a lot of pain by signing the Hibs goalie.
But I can’t undertand why you let someone else rule our land – cap in hand’.
Now, superficially, to those of a cloth ear persuasion at least, there is nae musical DNA to be discerned in Charlie and Craig which might have originated in the chromatic blue belled button accordion of their fellow Auchtermuchian, wee Jimmy Shand. Yet Perkie is not so sure. He has a haggis feeling that maybe there is nae 500 miles between them.
‘Call me precious, I don’t mind
Shellacked 78s are hard to find:
Just don’t sit on my Jimmy Shands !’.
And besides, in later life, wee Jimmy Shand took to wearing those same black, hornrimmed Buddy Holly glasses. (PW likes to think that either Craig or Charlie gave it to wee Jimmy by way of tribute)..
The fourth musical son of Auchtermuchtie is, of course, Sir John Arnott, perhaps the most musically gifted one of them all. The one who drew together the different musical strands of the one wee toon in Fife and Drum. For it was he who presided over the largest department store in Dublin and became the composer of the Cash Register Concerto in the process.
Predictions are always domestic animals of a precarious disposition, and forecasting the outcome of the Scottish Referendum on the 18th hole of the September course (publici) is more fraught than most. Not unlike, indeed, standing over the tantalising tee at the Par 17 on the Old Course at St. Andrew’s, where the green is unsighted.
Of course, the Mrs. Doubtfires will hae no doots at all here. All they’ll have to do is close their rheumy eyes (bless ’em), grip their Big Berthas like it was a lumpy porridge spoon, think of ye bony yet bonnie knees of Prince Philip in his Greek tartan kilt at Balmoral, and let fly.
But the real handicap to be overcome here is TUT. Yes, that TUT, The Unionist Times, once the favoured morning reading of Sir John Arnott, not least because it divided the world into two categories, the Ares and the Arnotts.
Now, one is not so sure. The editorial line of TUT has thundered in favour of an….och, aye, surely vote.
Whatever can that mean.?
Perhaps it must be decoded using one’s Stapleford manual?
It’s very encouraging for the Yes camp. It contradicts other latest polls which have the no camp back in front.
Personally, I’m not allowing myself to get carried away with thinking that the Yes camp will prevail, don’t get me wrong I’d love to see an independent Scotland, but I feel the fear of the unknown will affect many on the day and will probably swing it for the No side.
That said, the race is certainly hotting up to be historic – Can you imagine the ripples throughout these islands if a Yes vote does prevail? Surely it will galvanise nationalism and republicanism on this island? A Yes victory will be a great beating stick for SF to hit the dissidents with i.e. Politics works so give up the gun – we were right to sign up to the GFA which enshrines the right to a referendum and will one day give us our Scottish moment to decide the future of this land.
Go on Scotland be brave, Vote Yes and take the opportunity to control ALL your own affairs, it’s the grown up thing to do for any nation!!
Jude,
Interesting data set.
It’s perceived but difficult to quantify that elderly people tend to be less likely to use the internet. And generally, it’s they whom are more likely to be averse to risking radical changes and the possible absence of a larger poll of these voters would of course skew the result.
Anyway, I imagine the fear-factor will result in ‘YES’ falling short by 3-5% points. But, I dearly hope I’m mistaken and that ‘Scotland The Brave’ lives up to that accolade… f-r-e-e-d-o-m!!!
Scotland being the Home of Golf (HoG) one is tempted to view the scorecard posted today through the Royal and Ancient Eye of Warbeck with his Plus Fours on leg and Hickory Club in hand..
Alas, as there is always one among one’s fourball – let’s call him the Numerate One – who is invariably landed with the task of totting up and later subtracting, adding, multiplying and dividing the four handicapped scores, normally though not necessarily with the assistance of advanced algebra, this is not an option today.
Mainly, even solely, on the basis that one is in the driving range today, alone, all alone, getting in his sneaky weekly hour of practice, involving a plastic bucket containing a hundred assaulted and battered golf balls. Each ball being red splashed with the requisite warning to putative pilferers: ‘This wee ball hae’ been filched’.
Now, as is well known, modest old Perkie has qualities as long as the proverbial par six but, alas, being in possession of an Honours Degree in Differential Calculus is not listed among them. Thus, he is quite unable to submit the bewildering numbers on today’s scorecard to the due rigours of Stapleford.
Apart, that is, from being able to discern, darkly as in a glass of drambui, that the Mrs Doubtfires outnumber the Jock Positives by a parsimonious PIctish mile. Mention of Mrs. D intuitively leads one on to Colin Montgomery. Say what you will about the half-Scottish Monty, there is just no gainsaying the kilt-clad fact that he is the possessor of the sweetest golf swing. Ever. It is like nothing so much as a Schubertian melody.
Thus, with the kind permission of Esteemed Blogmeister one would like to approach today’s blogcard like it was a plain hymn sheet from the local wee kirk.
Beginning (and ending) with A for Auchtermuchty. The four most famous sons of this wee toon in Fife are musicians: reading, l to r, Charlie and Craig Reid, Sir Jimmy Shand and Sir John Arnott.
Aughtermuchty is rumoured to be derived from the Leprechaun, Uachtar na Muc / Height of the Hogs.
Craig and Charlie , who used to be identical twins until one or the other jettisoned his black, hornrimmed Buddy Holly glasses, proclaimed themselves at an early age to be on the ‘Och, aye’ side in the (then) longdistance, far off Referendum. As is instanced by this re-release of an old song of their’s, ‘Cap in Hand’:
‘I can tell the difference between margarine and butter
I can say ‘Saskatchewan’ without a stutter;
I can understand why Stranraer are so lowly
They could save a lot of pain by signing the Hibs goalie.
But I can’t undertand why you let someone else rule our land – cap in hand’.
Now, superficially, to those of a cloth ear persuasion at least, there is nae musical DNA to be discerned in Charlie and Craig which might have originated in the chromatic blue belled button accordion of their fellow Auchtermuchian, wee Jimmy Shand. Yet Perkie is not so sure. He has a haggis feeling that maybe there is nae 500 miles between them.
‘Call me precious, I don’t mind
Shellacked 78s are hard to find:
Just don’t sit on my Jimmy Shands !’.
And besides, in later life, wee Jimmy Shand took to wearing those same black, hornrimmed Buddy Holly glasses. (PW likes to think that either Craig or Charlie gave it to wee Jimmy by way of tribute)..
The fourth musical son of Auchtermuchtie is, of course, Sir John Arnott, perhaps the most musically gifted one of them all. The one who drew together the different musical strands of the one wee toon in Fife and Drum. For it was he who presided over the largest department store in Dublin and became the composer of the Cash Register Concerto in the process.
Predictions are always domestic animals of a precarious disposition, and forecasting the outcome of the Scottish Referendum on the 18th hole of the September course (publici) is more fraught than most. Not unlike, indeed, standing over the tantalising tee at the Par 17 on the Old Course at St. Andrew’s, where the green is unsighted.
Of course, the Mrs. Doubtfires will hae no doots at all here. All they’ll have to do is close their rheumy eyes (bless ’em), grip their Big Berthas like it was a lumpy porridge spoon, think of ye bony yet bonnie knees of Prince Philip in his Greek tartan kilt at Balmoral, and let fly.
But the real handicap to be overcome here is TUT. Yes, that TUT, The Unionist Times, once the favoured morning reading of Sir John Arnott, not least because it divided the world into two categories, the Ares and the Arnotts.
Now, one is not so sure. The editorial line of TUT has thundered in favour of an….och, aye, surely vote.
Whatever can that mean.?
Perhaps it must be decoded using one’s Stapleford manual?
May your hand never lose it’s cunning and may your backswing ever sing the Halleluia Chorus all on its ownio (mon)