There’s an article in the Sunday Herald about what it means to be a son/daughter of the manse.
Of course I was a son of the manse in Lutheran Denmark, not presbyterian Scotland, but I can still recognise many of the things they describe.
Sønder Vissing was not at all a desperately poor place, so I have no memories of dinners for the homeless and such things. But I do remember the council of the elders meeting in our dining room, the yearly gathering of the old folk in our house and garden, sitting in the front of the church and having everybody stand up and sit down depending on what I did, and most of all, that feeling of being supervised by the entire community at all times.
I think it does affect one’s personality, and I guess it’s therefore quite useful to have a label to stick on us, the children of the manse.