Soggy kilts are not a good look
The good news is that I seem to have regained the power of photography. Well, of uploading photos, at least. Thank goodness: the thought of having to rely exclusively on my literary prowess is pretty terrifying.
The bad news is, my photos are still of rainy days. Here are our fields and hills this morning, swathed becomingly in cloud in the middle of a thunderstorm. (I’ve had to lighten the picture a little, as it was so gloomy and dark out there that most of the foreground looked almost black.) I am praying for a break in the weather. Tomorrow is our annual Highland Games. We have always said, ‘It never rains for the Highland Games’ because it has been true for years; but I fear that this year might prove us wrong. The forecast is not looking promising.
As hereditary Chieftain, my husband will be leading the pipe band through the town to the games field to open the competition. The pipers, the Chieftain, the Chieftain’s little boys and many of the competitors will be wearing their heavy woollen kilts, which are no fun to wear if they get waterlogged. The thick folds of sodden wool slap against your thighs as you walk, and the hem of a wet kilt cuts into the back of your legs like knives. Bagpipes, drums and tweed jackets don’t much like the rain either. So here’s hoping that this wet summer might give us a wee break tomorrow afternoon…
(Oh, and I’m sorry if you were hoping for a photo of Scotsmen in soggy kilts. Is that the Scottish version of the wet t-shirt shot, do you think?! I’ll see if I can get a good photo or two tomorrow – but preferably of dry ones.)
For a personal report on last year’s Games, see Wi’ a hundred pipers an a’, an a’.