Are we all in the Tartan Army?

Over on Bloggin fae the 'Burn Mark is having a look at the generic reasons (should that be excuses?) people have for not endorsing/embracing Ulster Scots.

If he will forgive me, my laziness and current inability to come up with unique thoughts have compelled me to develop the theme here myself.

His first post in the series (the page seems to be down at the minute, so excuse the lack of a link) addresses the Haggis/Tartan issues - whether people feel it is artificial to "suddenly" go all Bay City Rollers, after years of comparative drabness.

Unlike Mark, I am a member of a Pipe Band and have been for 20+ years at this point.

I have to admit that putting a kilt on for the first time was an odd experience but very quickly it becomes a fairly ordinary part of life (although not a daily one!) and is akin to the uniform that you might put on doing many other activities - Boys' Brigade, Scouts, St John's Ambulance etc..

I'm not trying to pretend I'm a Scot when I'm wearing the thing, it's just the uniform you wear when playing in a band. The reason for my attraction to the whole "pipe band thing" is the harder bit to define. I love the music - although my band is at the lower end of the talent spectrum. I do feel a "connection" to the whole tradition - which is odd, bearing in mind that you have to nip across a few generations and branches of the family to find anyone else who has ever been involved.

It has been said before that Identity is a complex and multi-layered concept. The more I think about this, the more I am driven to the conclusion that this discussion is yet another one about that very concept. I don't feel Scottish. I don't feel Irish. When I go to Dublin, I feel that I am very much in a foreign country. When I go to Glasgow, I feel comfortable and much more at home than I would in either London or Dublin. What does that make me? Confused?

The roots of both branches of my family seem to be from Scotland via East Donegal and therefore I suppose that I can claim impeccable Ulster-Scots credentials, but I doubt that my attraction to the culture (and the language, although I don't claim to be a speaker) can be attributed to ancient generations crying out to me from beyond the grave.

After all that rambling, perhaps the best response is as follows:

• You don't have to wear a kilt to be an Ulster-Scot - although it can do no harm to get a bit of air round you.
• You don't have to eat haggis to be an Ulster-Scot - although it is lovely - and my dad had it EVERY DAY (no kidding) when he was at University in Edinburgh. And he lived.
• You don't have to like porridge to be an Ulster-Scot - nor do you have to eat it with salt. Indeed, you should not as it is disgusting that way.
• At the end of the day, an Ulster-Scot is like an elephant - you know one when you see it - but we're really hard to define. Nessie the Elephant? Ulster-Scots elephant? Okay, suit yourselves.....