Edinburgh's Ugly Stepsister

Hold onto your kilts, Scotland has been voted the most beautiful country in the world. My guess is, not by us. In a result more shocking than the Indy ref, we beat the likes of New Zealand, Canada and even our old pals England thanks to the readers of Rough Guide. Now I’ve lived in Scotland my whole life, so maybe I’ve taken it for granted, but when I look out my window every morning, beautiful is not the word I’d use to describe it.

Had I stayed closer to the places listed by Rough Guides and Scotland’s beauty advocates, this could have been a very different article. But I don’t. I stay in the slow beating heart of Livingston where there is little to do and not much to look at, neither is pleasant. Rewind about 60 years and Livingston was once scenic farmland. Apparently.

Tourists in Livingston are rare, very rare. But when they do happen to stray too far from Edinburgh and wander into the not so little town of Livingston, they are more visible than an Englishman at Murrayfield. We all know they are there, we just choose to ignore them. Less than 16 miles from Edinburgh, you would think they’d be much the same but you’d be wrong, very wrong. Gone are the cobble stoned pathways. Gone are the stop-start tourists with their Fujifilm cameras. Gone are the historical landmarks. Livingston definitely was not visited by any Rough Guide readers that is for certain.

Livingstons most famous, and perhaps only, landmark is the Livingston Designer Outlet, or The Centre, as it’s most commonly known.

This is where everyone, who is not from Livingston, does their Christmas Shopping. Everyone who is from Livingston, spend the majority of their lives there. You usually see stray tourists around here, this time with less stop-starting and definitely no Fujifilm cameras. With all things considered, the centre is probably one of the better places. There’s a number of restaurants, most of which have pretty decent scores on TripAdvisor. But if you’re looking for nightlife, look elsewhere.

I can count on 2 fingers the amount of times I’ve ventured into the nightlife of Livingston and I can safely say, that was enough. Despite being made up by 12 districts and being the third largest town in Scotland, a night out in Livingston is like a High School reunion. I left for a reason.

There is always someone you know that knows someone who knows you.

Type Livingston into Google and one of its notable people is Scott Arfield, Burnley midfielder and, ironically, someone I know. We spoke about Livingston, my dislike and his strange love for the place. Very few people raised in Knightsridge would say that. He told me, “it’s a nice feeling when you’re back but a nicer feeling when you leave.” I laughed, tinged with jealousy that he no longer has to stay here but for some reason, this five-minute conversation changed my perspective on my hometown.

If you arrive here suitcase in hand, ignore this and re read paragraphs one and two. However, Livingston does actually hold 90% of my memories. The reservoir where my dog learned to swim, the park where I learned to jump off a swing and Livi backfields where we would have bonfires and alcohol, legally of course. There are many good things about Livingston. Don’t get me wrong, they definitely do not make up for the bad, but they almost equal out. Almost.

I am by no means a professional football player, but what Scott said rang true once I sat down and really thought about. And I thought about it really really hard. Scott said, “the place gave me everything,” and as much as it pains me to agree. I do.