Man-eating midges and miserable weather. These, as my other half never tires of telling me, are two of Scotland's greatest assets, writes Mary Mulvihill
To understand this seemingly contradictory statement, you must know that the other half is a Scot - a wannabe Pict whose corporeal body must sadly work and reside in Dublin, while his heart aches for his beloved Highlands.
And if those beautiful Highlands are not to be destroyed by hordes of marauding tourists, if those majestic mountains and sandy beaches and lovely lochs are to be preserved intact, then what better protection than miserable weather and man-eating midges? Now, if you've ever been to Scotland, you'll know why he feels this way.
And if you haven't. . . Well, I should say you must go and see for yourself, except that encouraging people to visit is more than my life is worth. And besides, there's the weather and those midges. No, you definitely don't want to go to Scotland.
For in Scotland it rains all the time. Except when it's snowing. And it's always cold and grey. And that's just the summer. (For winter conditions, the adjective you're looking for is arctic.) Also, there is no wind. This, the other half assures me, is A Good Thing, because even a gentle breeze would keep the midges grounded. And we don't want that now, do we? No, we want the still, calm weather we get all too frequently in summer in the Highlands, when thick clouds of midges can rise unperturbed from the damp grass.
You may have met Irish midges but, trust me, their Scottish cousins are different. Infinitely more ferocious and voracious, they will chase you up hill and down dale and follow you home.
I have been caught in swarms so thick it was hard to see, and even harder to breathe. And boy, can those critturs bite. I have been traumatised by something that is only a few millimetres long, and I' m not ashamed to admit it.
Note, too, that there is no escape. And no effective repellent: citronella, deadly DEET, oil of bog myrtle - the midges love them equally. (As for the new vacuum device, launched at Loch Lomond last month by a desperate tourist board. . .Well, such a sad waste of resources.) Not surprisingly, Scottish midges have been cunningly exploited in the past, as when the good people of Gairloch, unhappy with their pastor, staked him out naked to be eaten alive.
So no, you don't want to go there. (Unless of course, you want to take part in my new reality TV series, "I'm a bedraggled, midge-eaten celebrity, get me out of here".) Why, then, do I go to Scotland at every possible opportunity? I could say that it's for the stunning mountain scenery, the beautiful beaches, the friendly natives (perhaps Gairloch excepted), the gorgeous lilting accent, the great cities of Glasgow and Edinburgh. . .But the truth is that I, too, have lost my heart to Scotland and the Highlands.
I don't, however, agree with my resident Scot about his national assets, for I could live without his miserable weather and his midges. Instead, what I enjoy as a visitor are the single-track roads and the increasing use of Gaidhlig (or Scots Gaelic, a close cousin of Ulster Irish).
Single-track roads, if you've never driven on them, are a Scottish solution to a Scottish problem - the problem being remote mountainous terrain, and the cost of building a road for a relatively small population. The solution is a narrow road, wide enough for one car, but with "passing places" every 100 metres or so. When there is an oncoming car, or a car behind that wants to overtake, you simply pull up at the nearest lay-by, and let them pass.
This has a strangely civilising effect. For a start, it is de rigueur to salute every passing motorist, and the eye contact, and the gentle wave of the hand, are pleasing moments of courtesy and social contact. Then there's the fact that on these roads you'd be mad to travel at anything over 40 m.p.h.
Large and heavy vehicles are also banned from some single-track roads, so there are none of those ludicrous scenes so common on Irish boithríns, when two large tourist coaches try to pass each other.
Yes, the single-track life is the life for me.
(The Scots apply this "passing place" philosophy even with bigger roads: instead of building expensive motorways, or even dual carriageways, from A to Z, they build only a twin track road, but with short intervening dual-carriageway sections, so that traffic which builds up has a chance to overtake safely. National Roads Authority of Ireland please take note.) Then there's the increasing number of road signs appearing in Gaidhlig, though the language has none of the status that Gaelic "enjoys" in Ireland. Yet the Scottish tourist board clearly appreciates that visitors like to feel they are somewhere other than home, like to see something different when they go abroad, and don't need to be spoon-fed everything in English. Such a pleasant change from here, where we bend over backwards in English for the tourist dollar.
All of which explains why we will again be braving the weather and the midges this summer, driving at 30 m.p.h. around narrow, twisty mountain roads, and deciphering signs in Gaidhlig. And you know, I do it all under the greatest duress.