I am quite excited for Jack's reaction to Glasgow though because I bet she'll stay within three streets of Central and not go to any of the really amazing bits of the city, and all her opinions about it will be hysterically wrong (as per).
As I supped a double espresso in the historic Counting House*, I couldn't help but smile at the soft, gentle, curious glances I received from the locals, who were called Jock, Tam and Rabbie. Had they only ever seen a smol pixie in the glens of their childhoods? I knew, though, that we shared something that transcended borders. I related to their mournful hymn, 'Donald, Where's Your Troosers?', because I, too, had been questioned about my fashion and identity by my Old Chief, who asked "Traaaaazers? On a bird?" When I joined Jock, Tam and Rabbie at their table, they greeted me with what I understand to be an old Scotch blessing, chorusing, "Gonnae no dae that?"
*for the non Scots, this is a Spoons.