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January in Scotland (no lbc) long

To: <spridgets@Autox.Team.Net>
Subject: January in Scotland (no lbc) long
Date: Sun, 16 Jan 2005 08:36:05 -0800
Just received this email from my father, thought It might be interesting due
to the UK content...

Dear Sons:



I saw a different Scotland on this trip, and not a particularly nice Scotland.
Perhaps it was influenced by the weather, cold, grey and blustery, or to post
holiday blues, but it was ugly, downright ugly.  No, I don't mean the scenery;
that was as beautiful as ever, in a rugged and raw type of way; it was the
people and a changing way of life.



I got there on the third of January, and Hogmanny, their New Years celebration
was just winding down.  In Scotland, this is even a bigger holiday then
Christmas, and is a time for partying and heavy drinking.  Many of the regular
businesses remained closed, but the pubs and retail outlets were doing a brisk
business.  By the next day, activity changed dramatically, it was as if the
whole city of Aberdeen had a hangover, and the truth be told, most did.  The
schools and many offices remained closed, and my class was the only one
scheduled at Rig Train, the oil field training site where I work.



Later that night as I walked to dinner, the streets were nearly deserted;
Christmas lights still blinked above, but the crowds were gone.  A beggar was
at his usual spot, sitting on the top step at the entrance to a church about 2
blocks from my hotel. He sleeps there some nights, curled up behind a sign
that's chained in place across the entrance.  I've never seen him ask for
money, but when the weather is warmer, he'll leave his hat upside down, and
passer byes occasionally drop a few coins for him.  There are crutches next to
him, and he has the red nose and swollen face of a long time alcoholic.
Several times I've seen others sit next to him and share a bottle or a smoke,
and those are the only times I've seen him smile.



The UK, and Scotland in particular is going through a major social and
economic change; much like the US, manufacturing jobs are disappearing, going
to low cost countries like India, China, and Korea.  Ship building, steel
production, and the automotive industry are near dead.  There's work in social
services, health care, marketing, and tourism, but the foundation is eroding.
Housing costs continue to go up, but with the loss of higher paying jobs,
fewer and fewer people can afford the cost of owning a home.  Tax revenues are
down, and there are fewer police on the street.  During this short stay, the
last major textile firm in Scotland closed abruptly, leaving nearly 200
workers unpaid and out of work.  The last floating dry dock was sold for
scrap, and another group of fishing vessels repurchased by the government was
destroyed, to reduce the size of the fishing fleet competing for too few fish.



Each morning the newspapers carried stories of another bazaar assault or
murder, a young pregnant woman stabbed to death while walking down a main
street, the body of a nude girl found in a church cemetery, her assailant
setting himself on fire, and jumping out of a 6 story window to commit
suicide, a group of 10 year old girls assaulting an elderly woman on a side
street; and the list goes on and on.



Friday night I took the train to Edinburgh, for I had an early Saturday
morning flight back to Houston.  On the short walk from the train station to
the Old Waverly Hotel I passed more drunken youths then sober.  No, they
weren't unruly, just loud and drunk, staggering drunk.  The legal drinking age
in Scotland is 18 and few wait that long.  I recall a statistic from an
earlier visit; the average 18 -23 year old female, drinks 5 liters of wine a
week, probably most of it on Friday and Saturday nights.  In any case, broken
beer bottles and vomit are not uncommon sites as you walk the streets in the
early morning hours.



Yes, it was a depressing trip.



I'll be in Houston this week, Seattle next weekend, and then back to Scotland
for what may be my last trip.



I hope all is well; please write as you can.



Love ,



Dad





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