Today’s modern vernacular is something I largely cannot comprehend. Just this week alone I learned what it means to be pied – and if, like me, you grew up on Tiswas, it’s not that. I am, however, pretty good with acronyms and initialisms, even if the pedant in me still bristles at their casual abuse.

Yet this past week, with the Tartan Army in all its resplendent glory doing far more for Scotland’s international standing than any official delegation ever could, I am suffering from FIMO – FOMO’s bigger brother, as I’m unquestionably missing out.

The warmth, love and affection surrounding the kilted masses in Massachusetts has been utterly delightful. There has been singing – lots of singing – the occasional libation, dancing, as well as the mischievous educating of our new lifelong American friends in our own distinct turns of phrase. They’ve learned that profanity can be used as warmly as it can disparagingly and, more importantly, how to deploy it properly. The glee of Americans discovering that liberating pleasure has filled my Twitter feed with hours of doom-scrolling bliss as I sit here envying the party my fellow countrymen are living through.

Scots have never been shy about reminding the world of what we have contributed to it. To rhyme them all off would fill this entire column and then some – and it is undoubtedly fitting that, in this World Cup year, we can point to having gifted football to the world too.

A nation renowned for its intellect and, above all, its courage and unapologetic honesty is able to show the world that our warmth and generosity are every bit as valuable an export as our whisky. You would think, therefore, that after the warm Bostonian embrace, global plaudits and social media love for Scots simply being remarkable........

© Herald Scotland