To Ayr tomorrow (with Kleenex) to watch my other half's eldest daughter participate in the Olympic torch relay.
It seems a bit much after four days of jolly Jubilee japes, doesn't it? Isn't the relay just another basically English imposition to sustain an illusion of unity in a disunited kingdom and infuse some wartime spirit as we struggle through the worst depression since 1929?
Like many Scots, I found the weekend's orgy of cloying sentimentality, wrapped in red, white and blue, frankly excruciating. The Queen herself, be she Elizabeth Queen of Scots, Elizabeth II or plain "Brenda" (as immortalised by Private Eye in the 1970s), may retain in her person a sense of unity and continuity. But in these egalitarian and anti-deferential times, surely the most potent symbol of unelected privilege in the world is past its sell-by date? Though it was different in the early 1950s when Britain enjoyed a belated celebration of victory over Hitler's Germany with the Coronation, in the west of Scotland these days, the Union flag is largely a loaded symbol, denoting division rather than togetherness.
Of course, everyone loves an excuse for a knees-up but without feeling the need to colour code themselves. We needed binoculars to see the beacon on top of Dumgoyne because the timing had been ordained from London, where they didn't seem to know that it's still light at midsummer in Scotland at 10pm.
As for the concert in front of Buckingham Palace, if this was a celebration tempered by austerity, what would they have laid on in a boom?
It's tempting to dismiss the torch relay as more of the same "bread and circuses". After all, it was Hitler who revived the idea in 1936, purely for propaganda purposes. A human chain of torchbearers can be seen as embodying the idea of a Big Society, and suggests North Britain is not forgotten in this outburst of London Pride. Yes, it reeks of tokenism, like giving us the women's football, but there's an essential difference.
While the Jubilee celebrates the epitome of class and privilege, the torch relay is a valiant attempt to seek out society's unsung heroes and give them a few minutes of fame. Here is an idea that resonates with Scottish communitarian instincts.
So to Sasha. In 1986 she was the shy slight 10-year old who instantly and selflessly fell in love with her new half-sister – my first child – and in doing so became the glue that mended my husband's fractured family. Largely thanks to her, that glue has held. Appropriately, it was this same baby who 25 years later nominated her big sister to bear the torch.
Fate has not looked kindly on Sasha. Though happily married to Murray, their first son, Dylan, was born with a life-threatening heart defect and has survived only through some amazing surgical wizardry. Their second son, Jack, suffers from global development delay, which at five leaves him more like a three-year-old with limited speech and an alarming absence of any sense of danger. Blighted? Never. They feel blessed. Thanks to both parents' boundless love, endless energy and (almost!) inexhaustible patience, their home is a cocoon of cuddles and laughter for their vulnerable sons.
Along the way she has raised £20,000 for Little Heart Matters, which supports kids like Dylan and, in what she laughingly calls her spare time, she has helped launch Spotty Zebras, a support group for parents with children like Jack.
It's families like this, the lifeblood of David Cameron's Big Society, that now face cuts in benefits and council support, as they struggle to sustain charities trying to do more on less money.
That's why I hope Scots will turn out to cheer on Sasha and all the other human gems invited to bear the torch on its journey to east London.
No disrespect to Brenda but tomorrow I'll be singing: "God save our gracious Sasha."
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