Back in the 1970s, things had seemed optimistic: Motherwell was a place with a future. There was little doubt that better times lay ahead, that we were valued, the people of this fortunate country, and that everything would work out fine. And we lived in this great country, Scotland, the great River Clyde on our doorstep. Yet, in Motherwell, all was not well with my mother. Failure to be Scottish in Lanarkshire was a problem for my mum, just as failure to be English had been a failure for my dad in Essex. And in both places, I was a chimerical beast, an oddity.
Source : Made in Lanarkshire, Scotland
