I HAD lunch two weeks ago with some American friends in London. I didn't know the people very well, but they were really nice company and when we parted at least three of the guys said: "Such fun meeting you, Janey. I love you." They hugged me and walked off. I stood in the street embarrassed at their proclamation.
Now, I know it's normal for the Americans to say those profound 'three little words' quite often but, as a Scottish person, I felt quiet odd receiving "love" from people I didn't know very well. It made me feel emotionally invaded.
"You don't kno
w me well enough to love me!" I wanted to shout into their happy-clappy faces, but I stopped myself, as I know that would have been churlish.
I can count at least three people in my circle who waited at their father's deathbed for affirmation of affection and still never got the love they craved. I know that's sad, but it's true. We Scots are a stoical bunch, not used to professing our love to people in general – much less in public – and we balk at people who do.
You see American pop stars shouting out to the crowd at a concert: "I love you all!"
If they really did love them, they wouldn't charge that much money at the door of the stadium. "Just sing the songs, pal, don't profess a love you don't possess" is all I'm saying.
I like the Scottish dourness; I admire the hard-nosed way we dish out our love; we hate the world but love our kids and rarely love anyone or anything else.
My daughter, Ashley, is told she is loved every day, though she hates it when I do it in front of her University pals. She hisses at me and beats off a hug. I think I need to stop that. She is 22 years old.
As a nation, we rarely scream our adoration at stuff we really like. When was the last time you heard football supporters shouting "I love you guys!" to a bunch of muddy men on a field? "Never" is the clear answer, but we like screaming obscenities at them when they fail to win.
We Scots don't do love very well, but we are brilliant at hating en masse. Just say the words "Margaret Thatcher" loudly in public and see what I mean. Folk will spit and growl.
I don't want to be prolific at declaring my love to people. The Yanks can keep their strange affectation. I will stick to liking some people and loving a few. That's the Scottish way.
We're rooting for democracyTOMORROW, at the Godley house, we are having an "Obama-rama" party for US election night.
My whole family and just about everyone I know is rooting for the Big Man. Global politics affect us all and, if you don't believe me, then just think 9/11, war in Iraq and the recent credit crunch.
All things American do seep into our Scottish lives, no matter on which side of the pond (or fence) you sit.
Obama is the best man for the job as President, though, to be honest, anyone with a basic command of the English language could take over that position now and they would look amazing – no-one could do worse than Bush.
To ram home my dislike of Scary Sarah Palin, my wee great-niece Abi and I made a rather cheeky video parodying the Republican moose-killer. You can see it on YouTube if you dare. Just type in
www.youtube.com/janeygodleyDon't Brand all comedians as insensitive and crassSINCE Thursday, I've been phoned by endless newspapers and asked to justify my job as a comedian simply because two English boys who wear too much velvet were rude on radio.
What Ross and Brand did was like shoving a jobby through a pensioner's letterbox. It was juvenile. But now all comedy is being called into question – including live stage comedy – where the audience knows what it is paying to hear.
Comedy should be challenging and push boundaries. If we had not been able to poke fun at George Bush and turn him into a comedy monkey, someone might have shot him in frustration.
