Scottish Roundup – step a little bit outside the comfort zone

Welcome to this week’s Scottish Roundup.

I’ve been left in charge for the first time and I do feel rather like a teenager whose parents have left them ‘on trust’, the urge to plunder the drinks cabinet is almost uncontrollable. However, I can probably postpone the rampage long enough to share a peep into the blogosphere of Scotland.

Actually, I’ve enjoyed reading a great many new blogs – often taking me to subject areas I don’t normally visit. The trip out of my blogging comfort zone has been refreshing and inspiring.

Speaking of comfort zones (see what I did there?), at Bright Green Scotland the discussion is how to achieve election success: it’s crucial to campaign outside of areas of moral high ground and previous glory. The message for the Greens is that it’s time to get a little uncomfortable.

Then there’s a look to the future. At Fear and Loathing in Glasvegas, Iain Hepburn ponders the future of Gaelic broadcasting and whether that’s the same thing as the future of Gaelic broadcasters. Sticking with matters future, Kenny’s of Rant Tank fame is inspired by the Gadget Show and discusses the use of new media in advertising.

If not the future, certainly with a futuristic sound, ScotGovCamp explains what happens at a self-organised unconference. It sounds a lot more sensible than my 1994-esque imaginings.

By pleasant accident, the blogging road has taken me rain-drops-on-roses-style past some of my favourite things. Coastrider‘s photographs illustrate how a perfectly ordinary mid-week bike ride with a few chums and take a weary soul to some wonderful countryside. It almost inspired me to get the bike out of the shed…

Bagging Scotland for his Munro of the month has picked Buachaille Etive Mor – that great big thing that looms at the mouth of Glencoe. For my money, it’s one of the most glorious and satisfying hills to be had.

And to the next, Scotswhayhae provides inspiration of the inevitable nasty weather, after all there’s no point in climbing a hill if you can’t see anything. In their look at the Scottish books that deserve a good reading, they feature Iain Bank’s The Wasp Factory. It’s IB’s first literary effort and, arguably, one of his best.

One of my favourite buildings – Donaldson’s school for deaf in Edinburgh – is there in its gleaming glory on Suitably  Disparing‘s blog. SD argues that for once, the plan to build a new hotel in the city, is a good one if it preserves the splended building.

And who doesn’t like a day out with the weans? Cartside grasps the opportunity to take her family to one of Scotland’s pick-your-own fruit farms. I bet you didn’t even put that on your things-to-do-before-school starts list.

Still fruity, rehabilitated tabloid sub editor Julie Scrumptious invites us to pav our cake and eat it. Her headlines are nearly as good as her recipes.

A different kind of fruity brings us to Missy M and her very snigger-some tale of children learning to swear.

But as Voltaire said: “A witty saying proves nothing.” Or at least he did the other day at the Glasgow-based quotabl.es.

Key change here: major to minor. Many of the posts I read tackled the baddies, taking on the nasties and giving them what-for.

In gloomy mood, Slugger O’Toole argues that the Calman recommendations will bring economic misery for Scotland. Marvellous.

Turning to the miserable subject where no one comes out winning, NewsnetScotland suggests that the BBC’s coverage of the Megrahi affair has lacked editorial neutrality lately.

Gender imbalance anywhere (and let’s face it, the ladies usually come off worse) is pretty poor show in these enlightened times. So Lallands Peat Worrier kicks off a lively debate about a supposed gender gap among SNP supporters. Burdz Eye View explains the feverish activity among MSPs and wonders about how to get jobs for the girls without upsetting the political apple cart.

Phew grown-up bit over. Scottish Rebel lifts the mood with some thoughts about Robert Burns’ years in his home town of Dumfries.

And finally. Laura Boyd reflects on a year of living with leukaemia and hints of some charity bash loveliness to come

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