I think I'm turning Scottish. It's true. Been sleeping too long next to a Scot and it's rubbing off.
Consider this, today I suggested a venue for lunch based on a voucher. My friend wanted to go to a restaurant that unfortunately didn't have a 2-for-1 coupon, and sensing my frugality, she offered to pay my way. I wasn't even embarrassed.
Last weekend, when temperatures dipped below freezing and winds were high and knocking down trees, I caught myself reassuring our eldest "but at least it's dry."
I have a drawer full of 2nd class postage stamps. I got them on sale mail order.
I rescued my 80s tartan skirt from the attic and am considering wearing it without tights.
In the sunlight my brown hair has beautiful highlights. They're definitely red.
Get in mah belly, Irn Bru, Och aye the noo!
At playgroup last week, I called a little Polish girl "wee lassie."
I had a complete cow when a call centre operator in India mistakenly called me English. Poor lad. I'm sure his ears have recovered by now.
I can't think of anything that wasn't invented by a Scot.
I just don't get why people can't understand my accent.
A shot of Scotch now goes down surprisingly easily. And quickly.
So, ladies, what shall I do? It might not be too late if I act now...
