The Scottish Weekend

Isn’t it always the case that just when you get your mojo back and are ready to compete everywhere you get roped into a flitting and miss the Scottish Championships.

There was a bit of a question over who was going to report on the trip to Dumbarton but I have been to the Scottish before and know the format. I shouldn’t need to mention the early start or the weather or the setting of the pipes or any of that regular stuff.

The non appearance of Pipe Sergeant MacTaggart was explained when a picture of a hideously bruised and swollen ankle arrived on Richie’s phone. He apparently tripped over a big open tacum as he left the house, we only hope it’s not too sore and he’s back among us soon.

Pipey was fairly happy with the band’s performance but the persistent early E has returned to blight an otherwise workmanlike performance. Later the guys went to watch the Grade 2 competition and as Thiepval Memorial headed for the circle a voice called out, “Can I borrow your hat, pal?” I wonder if Thiepval Memorial have an Idiot Box? James the Hat did the necessary and is now telling everyone about his hat playing in Grade 2.

Clock has been enthusing all year about his drone and how he’s going to get some incredible pictures of us playing but the technical delays have been mounting and now he can’t fly his drone near people due to it’s immense weight. This is becoming more Pythonesque with every passing week and I’m expecting him to appear with his camera on a big carbon fibre pole to get said photos.

And Richie lost his pipes, this was discovered on the bus home and there was absolute panic as everyone tried to remember if he’d put them on the bus at all. A search turned up nothing, a phone call to Yvonne placed his pipes in Johnstone. She’d lifted the wrong bag, a cruel person asked her if she could steal his pipes before the competition next time. I actually heard his early E from across the river as I drove up the M8.

The weather was terrible,  cold and wet, July in Scotland.  It stayed dry for the bands competition performance which garnered us a last place. There are a minority of voices half jokingly asking if we’ve somehow offended the judges this year, others are calling for a concentration on street parades and knocking the competitions on the head but most know it’s all about putting in the practice, keeping your chin up and heading to the next Games.

The band were not finished with this weekend however and headed to Houston for an eighteenth birthday party. Many people have been in our company when we’re having a bit of a party, it can get messy. Few have seen us with the safety catches off, there was dancing, gin, singing, dancing, gin, dancing, singing, solo dancing with a big cardboard cutout of a famous dude I didn’t recognise, cartwheels, whisky, dancing and some Man dancing to the Venga Boys. The buffet was epic

Best party ever, thanks Abby for getting old and having it.

Next up is Arran, usually a quiet Women’s Guild kind of an affair which I will miss as I’ll be away reliving my rock and roll tour dreams vicariously through my son on the Blind Date Tour with Finding Argyle

Cannae wait..

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