Oh, I love Scotland (ancestry there[1]). NI, or indeed the island of Ireland as a whole, I have never actually visited[2], and yet know enough people from there[3] to get a decent idea that it's a nice place. My road-sign Welsh is far better than my road-sign Gaelic (of either C-Celtic variant), and while the area of Wales is smaller, there's a lot more subtlety to the roads that I can (and have) travelled across in the sub-principality of England. Scotland gets rather limiting, in this regard, in the Highlands. But, oh... the views and experiences. The nearly midnight sun, as experienced at Tongue... the gales witnessed (and suffered, and travelled against) in the Shetlands... the tidal rapids across which one of the Skye ferries travels, at certain times of the day. Oh, and the broiling hot sun, when it isn't raining or sleeting or worse.
So, loads of love for them (or at least, to the limit of my experience, Scotland).
[1] Well, the borders... We were probably the ones steal sheep and cattle from the English and selling them to the Scots and stealing sheep and cattle from the Scots and selling them to the English.
[2] Parents have. Cycled round it. They say good things about it.
[3] Both the Republic and the remaining bit of the Union, and with a whole rainbow of opinions about the situation.