One pleasant afternoon Pipey and Wee Mel were sitting in the second best living room arranging their sheet music into Gaelic order when the doorbell rang unexpectedly.
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I don’t believe in lockdown. I see no evidence of it in my day to day life. This is not going to turn into a Thought for the Day homily that turns that statement on its head, I see little evidence, during the week, that we are in lockdown.
Rumours are rife, planning is underway for competitions across Scotland this summer. Gourock are hopeful to host a games and the RSPBA have mooted five major championships in five weeks. If it all comes to fruition August is going to be a very busy month.
2020 started respectably enough, then the Aircraft of Normality roared across the deck of the Aircraft carrier of Life and plunged straight into the briny deep of Lockdown. I’m paraphrasing Humphrey Littleton here.
So it seems the other side of Tier 3 was Tier 4 and now we’re the other side of Tier 4 which is Tier 3 and thankful to be let out to the shops. I can see this being a festive season that’s talked about for years to come, ” Mind thon time we had a valid reason to no invite your brother for Christmas dinner?”
What a difference a week makes. Suddenly the world isn’t looking as dreich and gloomy, the longed for return to practice and socialising is now very much on the cards for next spring; earlier if we can convince Boris that bagpipers are key workers.
It’s been six months since the pipe corps met and we now look at the NHS mini marchpast with the wry grin of someone doing something they know they shouldn’t have. The tuition of pipers and drummers continues via t’internet and just when it looked like a return to practice with caveats could possible, maybe, just about happen the portcullis slams down and we’re back to square one.
It all went a bit quiet in the last few weeks, you can only pretend that everything is getting back to normal soon for so long, the rich vein of creativity that kept our Facebook timeline a must visit page seems mined out. The nights are fare drawin’ in.
The last clap for the NHS was the last wheeze of the strictly strict social distancing and isolating before the country moved into the next phase of lockdown which permitted some shops to open, drummers to meet up for a practice in the Public Park and myself, James the Hat and the Medic to meet for a beer in Habbies beer garden.
It’s been a long time coming and it only involved a very small number of players but it stopped me contemplating a story about the importance of hemp string or the history of brogues.