It’s a late start for us, your normal RSPBA major tournament has all the Grade 4b guys split into 2 or 3 qualifying groups but with only 23 bands registered to compete there is no qualifier just a huge final. Levengrove Park is a beautiful place for a pipe band competition, with Dumbarton Castle towering over us and the Clyde sweeping by. We were on last and met in the car park at 2pm. This should indicate that there was no time for any band based japes and this will be a very short report. Continue reading Scottish Championship, Dumbarton.
It’s pleasant to play local contests, you get a long lie and a short drive. Paisley is only 6 miles to the east of us and as such is our locallest competition. This has grown in the last 5 years into a nice wee gathering, well organised and pleasantly situated in the plaza in front of the station and old Post Office building. We first played at Paisley last year in a tight run dash from Glasgow Day to Paisley, some players joined as the band marched down the street. This year we assembled on School Wynd to tune up and had our first complaint from a resident within 5 minutes, new record. So we moved and actually made it worse for the resident killjoy. At this point the rain was a smirr on the wind but capes were looked out and fastened to belts, “just in case.” Continue reading Paisley Pipe Band Championship 2014
Cruise ships are a strange gig, there are never that many of you and you really don’t want to be shit. Continue reading Cruise Ships and Vikings
There is nothing worse than a Friday night deadline – Scout Hut 7 o’clock. I’m fairly punctual but I’m married to a drummer, “Time is an illusion etc etc!” The car was loaded, everything was in order but my poor drummer was ill, ill, ill. There was talk of, “you go on without me.” However after a wee call from Pipey she rallied and we made the bus with minutes to spare. To a chorus of, “Did you remember your pipes?” I boarded the bus for the 3 and a half hour drive to Inverness. The word from on high was that there would be no drinking on the bus, fair enough! This was to be our first overnighter as a band, so best behaviour and no hangovers for the morning. I don’t think I heard the first can being cracked ’til we crossed the Clyde. However as a show of solidarity for my poor sick drummer lady I held out ’til Perth. When in Rome! Continue reading European Championship, Forres.