We wouldn't call the Queen our auntie
We feel equal to royalty; we are as good as anyone. This is illustrated in a poignant reminiscence from The Herald (26 Jan 2000): When I was but a little tiny lad I had, like everyone else in Glasgow, a great civic pride in our water. We may have had more flea bites than freckles, and looked like Mel Gibson in Braveheart with blue ointment painted over our impetigo’d faces, but as far as the stuff that came through the lead pipes and out of the one (cold) tap in the house and the cistern of the stairhead privy was concerned, we wouldn’t call the Queen our auntie. Glasgow’s water is supplied from Loch Katrine in the Trossachs, a place of outstanding beauty and pure water. The lead pipes which took it to the kitchen sink have now been replaced.