I’ve always had a bit of a fraught relationship with my Scottishness. I was born in Scotland, spent half my life there. But as a Glaswegian of Irish descent there would always be other Scots on hand to remind me that, to them, I was irredeemably Irish. On my way to school I was spat on because of the colour of my blazer. Most Glasgow catholics can tell you similar stories. For years I didn’t understand why people would ‘meow’ at me in the street. It was only years later that my mum told me the old playground rhyme that used to follow her around: “Catholic cats eat the rats.” The joke being that the poor Irish immigrants could only sustain their huge families by feeding on household vermin.

I am Scottish, though. I do feel Scottish. I’m just not sure what that means. I don’t think I share the prevailing view among the Scots of their own identity. I hate when we play up to the stereotypes: that we’re boozy, loudmouthed, good in a fight. I hate the fact that so many of us define our national identity in terms of our relationship with the English. We can be so parochial, so bitter.

On the other hand, we can be brilliant. We’re a nation of intellectuals, of dreamers, of strivers. These are aspects of our national identity that I can associate with. What else? We like a laugh, but then who doesn’t? We’re generous of spirit. Doesn’t every nation claim to be that?

We love language. I don’t think we’re unique in this, but we may be unique in how we love it. There is something particular about the way we wield language. We have these big, open, long vowels, fierce consonants. We’re natural born poets. We have a rhythm, a meter that is our own. If you listen to the lowlanders, for instance, people say we swear a lot, but listen. We’re unique in how we do that too. It isn’t about anger, or aggression, or even emphasis. It’s all about the meter. It’s all about the sound.

It’s perhaps because of our shared love of language that so many of the words we share are so lovely. Words like skoosh and skite, drookit and mockit. They’re just fun words to say, and you can feel the meaning in your mouth.

Eibonvale Press have announced a call for submissions to Caledonia Dreamin, an anthology of strange fiction inspired by the Scots language.

I’ll be giving it a go. I’m not sure which word I’ll choose as my inspiration, or what I’ll write about, but it will give me a good opportunity to work through my issues with my Scottishness and hopefully let rip with my own love of language, in classic Scots style.