The first daffodils have still to raise their heads, but already the country has passed two technological milestones this year. The executive has announced 100% broadband roll-out, allowing Scots from the Tweed to Thurso to surf the net without waiting for sluggish dial-up connections. And I’ve finally worked out how to use the wireless router that I bought for my computer last June.

Ever the hopeful traveller, here was the opportunity to discover our nation without quitting the warmth of my bed for the cold outdoors.

The first stop on my wireless Weir’s Way took me to the heartlands of Presbyterianism. The Glens and Kirriemuir Old Parish Church offers visitors to Gkopc.co.uk the chance to drop in and listen to the prayers, the sermons and, presumably, the snuffly coughing bit while the collection plate is passed around.

Close your eyes and suck a Pan Drop and you could be there. Every awkward pause, screaming baby and creaking pew is reproduced with glorious veracity.

It is the stuff to stiffen your moral fibre and to make a man ripe for self-improvement. Thus refreshed, I immediately set about brushing up my other Scottish skills. On Tartan.tv an overenthusiastic chef demonstrated the joys of the national diet. Gathering up my spurtle, oats and a thick-bottomed pan, I tried to get to grips with porridge the way my granny used to make it. Except she never stirred her porridge while hunched over the keyboard of a laptop. After half an hour my qwerty keys were gummed together with oaty wallpaper paste.

But if the internet leaves a little to be desired as a Nick Nairn substitute, it could be the perfect vehicle to teach the intricacies of our national music. Or so I reasoned.

On his website Bagpipelessons.com, the accredited American piper Jori Chisholm offers online bagpipe coaching from his home in Seattle. With just a webcam mounted on top of your computer and some hefty sound insulation, Chisholm promises that he can teach the mysteries of grace notes and chanter control without ever meeting face to face.

“The internet has allowed me to successfully teach students almost anywhere, regardless of their geographic location,” raves Chisholm. “Pipers have the opportunity to study with me using real-time interactive video chat.”

But though Chisholm’s site promised a fusion of ancient music and modern technology, my own lessons foundered on a sluggish internet connection and poor breath control. The realisation was dawning that if distance is one thing the internet is supposed to collapse, it often also crumbles the barriers between wishful thinking and self-delusion.

Googling “Scotland” seems to flush out a large number of lunatics. “Love this family history site!” declares “Hamesickscot34” on one of many online sites devoted to Scottish genealogy. “I have just worked out that my wife is a descendant of Flora MacDonald and I am a descendant of Robert the Bruce and hence Bonnie Prince Charlie!” But reality still intrudes. It becomes clear that online Scotland has its own Highland/Lowland divide, just like the real-time place. On one side an ethos of douce self- improvement, and on the other a wild romanticism. At Smo.uhi.ac.uk/gaidhlig/ionnsachadh/ you can find endless links teaching you how to speak Gaelic; at Scots-online.org you can “Pit the mithir tongue on the wab”; and at Scottishcorpus.ac.uk you can hear the pronunciation of key Scottish words and phrases. On the other hand, the Scottish executive website will tell you anything you need to know about attempts to end social exclusion in its cities.

Unwilling to become bogged down in that hackneyed Highland/Lowland divide, I went instead for an all-embracing approach.

Within 10 minutes I had joined Clan Cameron, Clan Hunter and Clan Little, subscribed to a host of online clan newsletters and bought a pennant showing how the Stenhouses were related to the Clan Bruce, and for all I know, to Bonnie Prince Charlie himself.

In a few short hours I had travelled the length and breadth of this virtual kingdom, all without having to leave my flat. On first impressions I’d say it’s colourful, rather eccentric and full of characters with stories that don’t quite add up. And rather warmer than the real thing.

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