THERE WAS free drink and an enormous, continually refreshed buffet of excellent Indian food, and as I looked around, I recognised Ruth Davidson and what seemed like a lot of her Conservative superkids, suited, booted and quaffing like tomorrow belonged to them. There was a strange atmosphere of anticlimax, a weird frenzy of exhausted relief, a sense that victory was somehow undeserved. And, despite what the great and the quite good were saying, at least publicly, it was.
The time was 3.30am on the 19th of September, 2014, and I was milling uneasily around the function suite of Glasgow’s Marriott Hotel, where Better Together was holding its victory party. After half an hour or so, I left to wander back to my son’s flat in the west end, getting hopelessly lost for a while in the concrete undergrowth of the city’s central motorways. I felt ill at ease, discombobulated. For six months I’d been involved, in an odd and tangential way, in the campaign for a ‘No’ vote, writing one much-publicised column for The Guardian, some blogs and local newspaper and magazine pieces, and 17 more or less humorous songs for a website called The Referendum Songbook. Songs with titles like ‘Naebody Ever Asked Me’ (on opinion polls) ‘My Nationalist Girlfriend’ and ‘Scottish Forever’.
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