WE HAVE been to 21 towns and cities, from Dumfries to Thurso and Ullapool to Peebles, clocking up thousands of miles.
Our Scotland 300: Nationhood Tour was an unprecedented exercise in taking the pulse of the nation - by driving a Scotsman van onto high streets north, south, east and west and asking people what they thought of their country in 2007. Three centuries
after the Act of Union and on the eve of a fascinating election, the tour gave a unique glimpse into varied, complex modern Scotland.
It has not always been easy reading and we have been taken to task for sometimes presenting a depressing view of the places we visited. However, we always reported what we found, without bias, offering a snapshot of the people who came to speak to us, not a scientific analysis.
Scots were, in general, delighted to speak - and pleased we made the effort to turn up in their town and ask their opinion. One woman made a special trip to Oban from the island of Luing because she knew we were coming, others were waiting for our reporters when they arrived at the location of the day.
Today, we draw out some themes which emerged again and again.
Although there were more people willing to argue a strong case for independence than defending the Union, there were strident advocates for both sides in every town - although both Nationalists and Unionists displayed a fierce patriotism and a love of their country.
Occasionally, this lurched into what might be called racism - towards the English or immigrant workers. "The Poles are just coming over to sign on," was one comment in Dumfries, although others praised eastern Europeans for their work ethic and contribution to Scotland.
On the other hand, many incomers - from England, eastern Europe and Australia - praised Scotland for its welcoming tolerance. Agnieszka Kozdon, 25, who arrived in Thurso a year ago from Poland, summed up the widespread feelgood factor: "Scotland seemed such a beautiful place and I wanted to try life here. People have been so helpful and have made me feel at home."
NOTHING FOR THE YOUNG
A LACK of facilities and job opportunities for young people was a recurring theme on the streets, especially in the smaller towns and on the islands. Paul Gibson, 18, a sixth-year student in Oban, said: "There's just not much to do here. When you're 18, you don't want to stay."
Mairi Carson, a pensioner, made the same point in Portree. She said: "We need something other than tourism, because a lot of the young people leave the island and don't come back."
Trevor Jack, 39, of Aviemore, argued: "There should be more for the kids. They are being left to get on with things and that is not good enough. There is a lot for tourists but nothing for the people who live here."
William Ferguson, 18, in Stornoway, said: "There's nothing for young people. The only thing they do is go to the pub."
The issue also came up in Penicuik, where Cathy McGill, 25, a YMCA support worker, said: "Young people vandalise things because they are bored."
ANTISOCIAL BEHAVIOUR
IN THE smaller towns of the central belt - notably Paisley, Cumbernauld and Alloa - there was real concern about antisocial behaviour.
Leona Kirby, 20, of Paisley, highlighted "drugs and neds" as the big problem. "It's no fun getting out of the car and being chased by ten-year-olds with a baseball bat," she said. "I'm not joking."
In Alloa, the prominence given to comments by Leanne Chidwick and Stuart Tolly have been criticised for presenting too negative a view of the town - but they insisted that they had been subjected to violence there more than once.
Lynsey Fraser said of Cumbernauld: "It's a dump. There's people taking drugs. I'm frightened to go out at night." Bad behaviour was also raised in Aberfeldy: "There's a lot of noise, vandalism and drinking," said Linda Thomson. The issue was also raised in Penicuik. In Montrose, Bruce Murphy, who retired from teaching after being assaulted, said: "Maybe I am old-fashioned but children need to be taught citizenship and decency."
UNION or INDEPENDENCE
IN EVERY place we visited, there were staunch advocates of independence - and others not even prepared to think about it.
In Penicuik, Ian Watson had no doubt: "If Scotland was independent, its voice would be heard more easily on the international stage."
Minutes later, Alexis Robertson put the opposing view: "I love Scotland, but don't want to go independent. We would be worse off."
The divide was illustrated in Troon by Peter Mecham, 79, and his wife, Josephine. He was keen on independence: "We are a nation; the government we have is a waste of space", his wife less so: "It's like when a man leaves his wife, she's got to assess the situation. Can she afford to start from scratch?"
Lady Fiona Campbell in Peebles was a Unionist because "we need the umbrella of England". But in Thurso, Jeanette MacDougall had a different view: "I would go for independence - we could not get in a worse state. We are forgotten about here and everything is neglected."
SUPERMARKET DOMINANCE
THE dominance of the large supermarket chains and their impact on smaller shops - and on communities - came up often.
In Biggar, which has recently fought off plans for a superstore, Linda McEwan, 60, took a bleak view. "The supermarkets are killing the streets," she said. "Quite a lot of people come to shop here to keep the shops going, but I don't think it's enough."
A similar view was expressed by Marion Brown, 72, in Penicuik. She said: "It's almost too near to Edinburgh. The big supermarkets have taken over and a lot of local shops have closed because they couldn't compete."
This had contributed to a decline in a sense of community, she suggested.
Teenager Leanne Chidwick had a bleak view of job prospects in Alloa. "There's nothing around here except for supermarkets and they want people in their thirties who already have a driving licence," she said. "It's either the supermarkets or the army for us."
AFFORDABLE HOUSING
THIS was the issue that came up more than any other, with a real sense that locals are being priced out by incomers - moving permanently or buying second homes. Nigel Walker, 49, a photographer, said: "The big issue on Arran is - 100 per cent - housing. It's very close to Glasgow and there are vast amounts of holiday homes. Huge numbers of people come to live here, driving up house prices to the point where you are starting at £200,000. Teachers and socially useful people cannot buy a shed here."
Electrician Marc MacBain, 20, said he would have to leave Arran because he will not be able to afford a home.
In Aberfeldy, Maggie MacKay, 49, said: "House prices are ridiculous - you can get more for your money in Glasgow than here."
The issue also came up in Aberdeen, Oban - and in Portree, Skye, where Jackie Marquis said her son, 19, could not buy his own home. "A one-bed flat in Portree is going for £90,000, so how can he afford that?" she said.
ANTI-ENGLISHNESS
A NUMBER of English people who have settled in Scotland claimed there was antipathy towards them, and insisted that was not the case when Scots moved to England. Vanessa Stevenson, of Paisley, who is from Newcastle, said: "The English are oblivious to the Scottish-English thing. I didn't realise that existed before I came here. That was quite a disappointment."
Lesley Hellen, 49, who moved to Skye six years ago from Liverpool, made the same point: "I didn't know I was English until I came to Scotland. If they don't think you're up here to contribute something to the community, you'll be seen as a threat."
Vicki Dreyer, from Lower Largo, Fife, said: "I was born in Falkirk, grew up all over the place and ended in England. I never [saw] anti-Scottish feeling in England. But the anti-English feeling I've witnessed and heard since returning to Scotland is awful."
Donald Beaton, 62, put it bluntly in Portree: "There are too many incomers. They're mostly English. It dilutes the culture."
Hearing the big voice of our small nation was a joy
IT SOUNDED too good to be true. Two reporters and a van, a day out of the office, the chance to ask real people - not politicians, policy-makers or public relations officers - what they thought about Scotland. And we might even make it to the local pub for last orders.
Still, being part of the very first nationhood trip was a nerve-racking experience.
Would anyone talk to us, reporter Eben Harrell, photographer Neil Hanna and I wondered nervously as we wended our way through the January snow to Dumfries. We needn't have worried. After a struggle with the famous trestle table (that thing should have had its own tow truck, it was so heavy) we set up our stall to discover that people were, in fact, waiting for us.
And once they started talking, they didn't want to stop.
As the van beetled its way around the country, other reporters came back to Holyrood Road with similar tales. A reader had waited 20 minutes to speak to a journalist, while in Oban, a woman came from the small island of Luing just to offer her views. The visitors' book was running out of pages. It became increasingly clear that we are living in a small country with a big voice, and one that is desperate to talk, if only you bother to ask its opinion.
Journalists are naturally cynical folk, but as the tour continued a buzz began to go round the office.
Because, well, it was fun. From the fish suppers political correspondent Louise Gray and I balanced on our knees like two pensioners on holiday in an Oban car park, to the time Neil and I attempted, unsuccessfully, to teach New Yorker Eben the words to Ye Cannae Shove Yer Granny Aff A Bus, to the night myself, education correspondent Kevin Schofield and chief photographer Donald MacLeod spent in a spit-and-sawdust pub in Stornoway in the company of perhaps a tad more Guinness than we ought, the tour wasn't just an on-the-road style education about our own nation, it was a really good laugh as well.
Scotland is a vibrant, complex and beautiful place. It's good to get out and see it once in a while.
