"Society has moved on"

The Family Law Bill is the big debate in Scottish politics these days. If passed, the Family Law Bill would create a special status for cohabitees and reduce barriers to getting a divorce. I've attended the committee debates on the bill over the past two weeks. Not surprisingly, the debate is a lot different than what you might hear in Utah. On Utah ears, Mike Pringle's speech sounded particularly startling. Is this a sign of culture shock?

National Scrabble Week

In 1863, Abraham Lincoln declared a national day of Thanksgiving. He said, "I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens (qtd. in wikipedia)." On the fourth Thursday in November, Americans all over the world remember life's blessings while feasting on turkey, mashed potatoes, and pie. And sometimes they (I) reenact the original Thanksgiving at Plymouth using brown paper lunch bag puppets.

In 2005, the Association of British Scrabble Players declared a National Scrabble Week during 19 November-27 November. Scrabble clubs all over the country are raising the profile of Scrabble, encouraging club membership, and attracting media attention. This Thursday, Thanksgiving to Americans, the Scottish Parliament will host a Scrabble Night. The festivities will include tips from Edinburgh Scrabble Club Champions and lots of games of Scrabble.

All of the celebration creates a huge dilemma for thankful, Scrabble-loving Americans living in Edinburgh this Thanksgiving. Feasting or Scrabble?

The Heart of Midlothian

This is a picture of the time when my friends (Olivia, Emily, Lee) and I spit on the heart of Midlothian.
The Heart of Midlothian was an old tollbooth prison that carried out public executions. The stone heart marks the entrance of the now demolished prison. Spitting on the heart is a tradition that allows people to express their disapproval of:
1. the football club
2. capital punishment

I spit on it because someone told me it would bring me good luck.

Planning Your Trip to St. Andrews

Before leaving on your trip you should ask the most spirited St. Andrews alumnist in the world what there is to see and do in St. Andrews. (Thanks Nick!)

Bring Pringles on the train because you might sit next to a Canadian who keeps shooting glances your direction and if you have Pringles you can strike up a conversation, "do you want some Pringles?" When you want to end the conversation you can stop it dead in its tracks by saying, "Damien Rice is from Ireland."

The Museum of St. Andrews is a short walk from the bus station.

Don't bother walking 800 yards to the Royal Botanic Gardens unless you're willing to pay the £2 entry fee. If no one is on duty, you have to put your money in this box:

Steven Leavitt, the Freakonomics economist, should find out how many people pay solely because its called the honesty box.

The Cathedral, which sits on the north east side of town, was destroyed by a combination of fire, natural elements, poor design and possibly angry Reformers. Adam Ferguson's gravesite is here.


St. Andrews graduates walk down this Pier, but only women wear caps. When St. Andrews first admitted women in 1892, the men, after the fashion of the Boston Tea Party, threw their caps into the Harbour.

Here are some pictures of the time when I walked down the pier.


Chariots of Fire, though supposedly taking place at Oxford, was filmed on the West Sands. It's a great place to fly kites.

The initials PH on North Street mark the spot where Patrick Hamilton was burned at the stake for preaching heresy.

Oh, and there's a golf course.

Out of Thin Air

Spending 24 hours in Glasgow's city center is the equivalent of smoking 15 cigarettes. The Green Party's claim has been making headlines for the past day or so.

Pagan Ritual

This Halloween I went to the Samhuinn Festival. The festival is a revived pre-Christian tradition that marks the end of summer. The entire event lacked a certain professionalism and commercial appeal, creating the effect of a genuine Pagan ritual. A blue man led a procession of characters wearing leaves, body paint, and also some clothing. Hoisted above the crowd was a green man covered in leaves. The man ate fruit, occassionally throwing pieces to the audience. A small band of bagpipes, drums, and a trombone (actually a pretty cool combination) played the same minor chords in the same repetitive rhythm, giving the event a certain pulse. Rather than distracting from the pulse, the large crowd helped move it. "I feel like we're going to go kill someone," my flatmate Amy said. The procession ended at Parliament Square where the different characters acted out the conflict between Summer and Winter. Right when I thought I'd been swept away to the third century A.D., the performers made a blatant anti-war statement, bringing me back the twenty first century.