Image
© Peter Jolly/NorthpixYes campaigners dancing in Inverness high street on Thursday
The mood in the capital of the Highlands was downbeat after the independence vote - but there were pockets of approval

The makeshift sign at the roundabout on the outskirts of the Highland capital of Inverness has all the jaunty optimism of a referendum race still to be run: "Happy Thursd-aye," it declares. Except it's now Friday morning and the result is not aye but naw. Round the corner in the city's bus station, 25-year-old Mark MacKenzie makes a disconsolate figure in his kilt, trainers and full ginger beard, dreadlocks tied up in a ponytail. "I am devastated," he says. "I have lost faith in the Scottish people."


Comment: It's not the Scottish people who should be blamed, but rather the Powers That Be who rigged the referendum so that no matter how many Yes votes were cast, the end result would be no independence. They just could not allow the people to choose, to set an example that other countries would follow. It's too dangerous.


Inverness was a yes city. The Highlands has a population of 233,000 and covers a third of Scotland's land mass, including some of the most remote and sparsely populated terrain in Europe. The area as a whole rejected independence by a margin of 53% to 47%. But in the capital, it was hard to find anyone in the 80,000 population who admitted to voting no. Inverness has a maverick political past with a strong tradition of independent councillors and, before boundary changes, was once the only four-way marginal in the UK, split between Labour, Conservative, Lib Dem and SNP. It is now the constituency of the chief secretary to the Treasury, Danny Alexander.

It's a long way from Westminster. MacKenzie, who works in events, feels so disaffected he has never voted before. Not that he didn't make the effort: he always spoiled his ballot papers. Independence offered an alternative to London-centric politics. "But it's not anti-English," MacKenzie said. "It's anti-establishment. The ruling classes are privately educated. I'm not saying they're bad people but they don't have a clue what it's like to live in Inverness."

The Highlands has a comparatively low unemployment rate - around 3% against a Scottish average of 6% - but wages are almost 7% lower than the rest of Scotland. Highlanders often feel that their low incomes, high transport costs and economic fragility are not understood even by lowland Scots, let alone the affluent south east of England. But perhaps an Edinburgh parliament would have taken more notice. "Anything to get away from Westminster," says MacKenzie, "with its foreign policy and its privatisation of public services. Scotland is socialist-leaning. England is Conservative. When a government shits on you, it helps to know you voted for them."

Lunchtime at the Gellions bar, a bastion of Scottish independence on Inverness's high street, is deserted. A blackboard outside the pub has had a countdown for months, declaring how many days were left until independence. There was supposed to be a party here today. On polling day, the board had declared it would be £3 a pint for yes voters and £30 for no voters. Beneath a veneer of hostility, the barmaid looks as if she might cry. No, there's no celebration. She waves a hand round the empty pub where only a couple of punters prop up the bar. The band has been and is gone. All she will say about the vote is: "A lot of people are very depressed about it."

But not everyone thinks all is lost. "I would rather have woken up today and been able to say I am Scottish rather than British," says one of the town's taxi drivers, who claims he only ever heard two passengers say they would vote no. "But there is going to be change anyway." Willie Cameron, a yes voting businessman who owns the area's Cobbs hotel and cafe chain, agrees. "We are one of the most politically aware countries in the world. People have become very savvy and politics will never be the same."

One politician is much like another, Cameron acknowledges. "Some you can trust and some you can't. They all went to Hogwarts." But for him, it's about the identity of the Scottish nation rather than the identity of the parliament. "The Scots and the English are two completely different beings, two completely different psyches. The English are Anglo Saxons. The Scots are Celts. In my view they are as different as Arabs and Jews."

In Union Street, the yes campaign HQ has metal shutters up. Nobody home. "Scotland be brave," says a poster in the window. "Say yes." A car drives by with a saltire hanging out of the back window. The town has a subdued feel but a woman says she's heard the Keg bar is jumping.

The Keg is down an alleyway and unlike the Gellions has a lunchtime buzz. Finally, there are some no voters in the shape of two middle-aged men. Paul Ferguson, a nurse, and George Munro, who worked for British Airways, say they are delighted by the result. "I was no, no, no," says Munro. "I'm from Scotland but I'm proud to be British. I don't trust Alex Salmond. He is caught up too much in Braveheart. I was honestly surprised they didn't have it on the telly before the referendum."

"You've got to think with your head," agrees Ferguson. Things will change now anyway with devo max, he argues. Scotland will control its own destiny. "So why would you want to break up Britain, one of the greatest countries in the world?"