I'm really sorry for leading you astray yesterday, but I'm sure that because you don't know me, you didn't follow the advice that I gave you on Twitter.
Glaswegians, typically, don't like being called "Weegies."
I was messing with you.
I feel that I owe you an apology, especially because when you replied to my suggestion by writing, "that sounds slightly risky... ," I said, "Trust me... would I steer you wrong?"
I'm really sorry. I steered you wrong.
If you did refer to your wonderful fans in Glasgow as "Weegies," I'm sure they forgave you. After all, they came to see you because they love you and your music makes the world a place in which it is worth living. Who cares what you call them?
Plus, you're Canadian: what do you know about the Scotts? And where did I get the term? From a book, written by Ian Rankin, a resident of Edinburgh. His character, Inspector John Rebus, was a gruff character who was also prejudiced against his neighbouring city. He didn't care whether the term was insulting.
But you're a good person and you do care.
I don't know if you remember me. I tweet my affection for your music every once and awhile. I have seen you perform in Ottawa twice and have blogged about the wonderful experience.
Last November, before you performed at the NAC, I invited you to join my family for dinner before your evening. You thanked me, and respectfully declined.
Oh yeah: you're also on my Top 5 List.
This February, you are gracing my city with yet another visit. This time, not only am I bringing my wife to your concert, I'm also bringing both of my daughters, who love you and your music almost as much as I do.
Last evening, my youngest daughter, Lainey, asked me if I would again invite you to dinner before your show. Living a 15-minute drive from Centrepointe Theatre, we'd be a convenient place for you to dine.
Of course, you're always welcome.
But because of my words to you yesterday (me, trying to be funny, but, if you followed my advice, coming off as an asshole), I know that any hope of you sharing a home-cooked meal before your performance is now dashed.
Not only do I owe you an apology, I now owe my family a big "sorry" for putting us in your bad books.
My only hope is that if I have caused you any embarrassment that you will find room in your heart to forgive me.
I look forward to seeing you in February. With any luck, we can put this nasty business behind us.
Your loving fan, Ross.