A Very British Identity Crisis

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I haven’t written much about the European Referendum, but I’m very happy to have a guest post about it on the blog today. This is from my brother Ewan Cameron. He doesn’t mind a wee bit of debate, so please feel free to leave a comment below. Image credit: Chris Lawton at Unsplash.

I am not a writer, and as a journalist once told me (so it must be true) I am not a ‘political animal.’ I most definitely felt until recently that I had no national identity whatsoever. However, when my head is positively spinning with thought I do sometimes write things down in an attempt to find order. As I live in Scotland many of these thoughts currently whizzing around are a result of politics and involve matters of national identity so here goes.

I have a Scottish father and an English mother, which at least means I must be British. Until the age of ten this made absolutely no difference to me at all, I knew my mother was from a town called Leek in Staffordshire, I had grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins there who we saw twice a year or so and they were/are nice people and I enjoyed seeing them and that was as far as it went. Continue reading

The One with the Referendum

Scottish Independence Referendum Green Yes

Och. I was doing so well too.

You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to be good about this. How often I’ve sat on my hands, and not commented, or liked or retweeted or shared or argued or said a single frickin’ word, because it’s not my business anymore. I HAVE BEEN SO GOOD! Ask DorkyDad how restrained I’ve been. Ask him how often in the last few months he’s heard me come out with some hideously bland and diplomatic answer when people have asked me about the Scottish Independence Referendum. He’ll pull this tortured face at you, like he’s stuck at a dinner party between Britney Spears and Kim Jong-un, and he just needs the whole thing to be over already.

But I’m so inspired and enthused by reading other people’s stories – so excited by the number of folk, women especially, who are finding their political voice for the first time – that I feel compelled to add mine to the chorus.

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Reflections of a resting Scottish Green Party activist

voting box

This day four years ago, I’d been up since 6am. I’d spent an hour driving round Edinburgh to put A-Boards up outside polling stations, before standing outside Barclay Church all day with my rosette on – chatting to a young Tory and smiling at voters in the hope it might persuade them to vote Green. When the polls closed I grabbed some dinner with DorkyDad, and we headed out to Ingliston for a long and depressing night at the Lothian count.

Today, I’ve been up since 6am. I spent an hour making breakfast, playing with trucks and reading books to DorkySon, before toddling up the road to go and vote.  When the polls close I will probably be tucked up in bed, although if DorkySon wakes up at 2am and shouts for me to tuck Peter Rabbit’s toes back in, like he did last night, I may well have a sneaky peek on my iPad to see what results are in. Continue reading