The Scots is inconsistent, and I feel like if you forced an alien to listen to every Scottish folk song it'd write a book with the same phrases at just as high a frequency. If I was a drinker I'd take a shot every time I read the word jings or crivvens. At one point the writers have a topless kilted golfer talk about "yon Tarzan gadgie" then go home to drink his "Iron Brew".
I've been dipping in and out of this book since January. It's mindfulness with a difference. Reading it was like wrapping a warm tartan shawl around myself and just wallowing in the sheer Scottishness of it. frome jeelly pieces to thistles, to being scunnered ... it made me feel all warm and fuzzie and the gentl mindfulness reminders were so useful and different from the usual ones you read. Obviously being Scottish helped me relate to the experiences in the book and made me nostalgic for a visit North.