A few years ago, we celebrated our first Thanksgiving in Glasgow. I already knew it would be difficult to get a turkey, as they don’t appear in the local shops until close to their traditional starring role as Christmas dinner.

But I heard about an organic turkey farm in Scotland, so I put the address into my phone Sat-Nav and headed out. Soon I was deep in the Scottish countryside, admiring a field with adorable ponies grazing in it, but worried about the fact that my phone wasn’t picking up any signals. By about the tenth time I passed that same field, the now-familiar ponies weren’t nearly as attractive, so I switched to traditional navigation. In Scotland, that means by pub: “Easy as kin be. Tak’ a pointy caw afore ye come tae th’ Prince’s Bonnit, then seicont left efter whaur th’ Three Cygnets used tae be ‘n’ up th’…