Animal Farm in Scots: Chapter I

Mr Cameron, o the Kirklands Ferm, haed sneckit the hen-hooses for the nicht, but wis ower fou wi drink tae mind and steek the pop-holes. Wi the ring o licht frae his lantren jowin frae side tae side, he hytert athort the yaird, kickit aff his buits at the back door, haed ae last swallie frae the beer bowie ben the scullery, and stoitert up til his bed, whaur Mrs Cameron wis aaready snorin awa.

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The dingin doun o devolution

I laith politics. The leeing, the fechting, the pyntless Twitter tulzies. It’s no for me. But pairt o bein a guid cítizen is keepin ae ee, at least some o the time, on what’s gaun on in the seat(s) o pouer. History shaws that politícians canna be trustit and needs tae be hauden tae accoont. It’s in this spírit that I’d like tae scrieve a bit anent the UK government’s …

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Uisin oor vyce: hou we can mak polítical action on Scots inevitable

There’s a Renaissance gaun on the nou. It’s in wir newspapers, it’s on wir social media, an it’s in wir heids. It’s a newfund confidence tae be wirsels an speak hou we want tae speak. The guid Scots tongue is finally stertin tae get its smeddum back. Leuk aroond ye, an whaur Scots micht hae been invísible in the past, it’s nou present, e’en tho it can aften seem anely …

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Braw lads an soor plooms: on the mairch in Galashiels

Aboot the first thing that happens whan we get tae the mairch is that we get pit in chairge. Weel, kind o. Yin o the organisers comes joggin taewarts us across the gress, asks if we’ll be stewards. Me, ah cry aff; ah’m here tae write aboot the mairch, no tae rin it, an ah’m gey shuir ah’ll no hae onything positive tae say bi the fínish. Ah’v no been …

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