I Don't Know Where You've Been My Lad, But I See You Won First Prize*

On Saturday I saw a double feature with George, which was loads of fun.  I recommend seeing Juno in the theatre (the cheap theatre in Hopkins is still showing it), but I think Made of Honor, while cute and having Patrick Dempsey in it, is not worth the $9.00.  Save it for Netflix.

I went into the second movie knowing nothing about it other than Patrick is trying to prevent his girl buddy from marrying some guy.  Turns out said guy is Scottish and the movie goes over to Scotland for part of the filming.  They have an excellent shot of the Great Glen which is just as amazing as when I drove through it, way back in 1998.  I remember sitting in the car thinking to myself, "Men in skirts lived in these conditions?  Amazing."  This was before I developed a healthy appreciation for the Man in a Kilt, and before I had my Scottish Garment Business.  As the film went on they had a Highland Games, and suddenly there were Highland Dancers on stage and I thought to myself, "Wow - this stuff follows me everywhere."  It also got me thinking back to my trip in 1998 and how I finally discovered What a Scotsman Wears Under His Kilt.  So I thought I would tell you about it.

I was a young thing of 26, G was turning 3 (and actually did on the trip) and S was almost 9 months old.  About 3 days after we returned from our trip she skipped walking and went directly to running.  It was very surreal.  We had gone to the UK to visit friends of ours from the Army - L, J and their kids E and R.  They were stationed over in England and thus we visited England and Scotland with our own personal tour guides.  It was great fun. 

 

Aw.  They were so little then.

The flight was okay going over (and hellish coming back with a 9 month old who didn't feel like sleeping), but we made it fine and lasted (mostly) the whole first day.  Poor G could barely stay awake.  She accidentally wound up drinking this horrible orange Squash beverage straight up that is supposed to be diluted with water, and is about 99.9% sugar.  It caused an instantaneous awakening for about 4 hours.  Then this happened:

   

I found her 10 minutes later, passed out, face down, on a mattress in the spare room, snoring. She wouldn't wake up, and instead slept for about 12 straight hours and was then fresh as a daisy.  Oh that the rest of us could have had it so easy. 

In England, in York visiting the gardens.  G lived in that backpack, and S was quite comfortable (and apparently unconscious) in the stroller with rain guard, which I had never seen before, but which is a necessity in England.  And yes, S is not wearing any shoes or socks.  She was a much happier baby when her feet were bare.

We had a great time traveling and seeing just about every Castle or Historic Monument that existed. 

Look at my voluminous Polar-fleece.  Back in '98 no one in Scotland had Polar-fleece.  They were fascinated by mine.  Bothwell Castle.

One of the places we visited was Duffus Castle, picked by El Jefe strictly for the name.

Want to be the Earl of Duffus?

Our traveling companions were extremely fond of babies.  The pictures you see here of me holding a small child are rare.  I don't think I actually held the kids for more than an hour each day.  This also meant that every time I turned around, I would find S (being very portable at 9 months) usually sitting someplace odd, posing for a picture.  On top of a sarcophagus, in a pile of cannon balls, or in a basket in a shop:

Always happy to pose.

Our destination in the far north of Scotland was Inverness.  Inverness is a beautiful city, with great food and a fun atmosphere.  It was also one of the only towns where I had difficulty understanding the townspeople.  It turns out that the smaller the town, the thicker the accent.  And having been a linguist I pride myself on being able to understand anybody.  This is not possible in rural Scotland.  I have no idea what they are saying, but it sounds beautiful.

This was most evident in Crieff (home of Ewan MacGregor) where we toured the Glenturret distillery.  The girl giving the tour was gorgeous (lovely red hair) and was doing a fine job.  I just had no idea what she was saying.  None of us did, but we were all so entranced by her we didn't say anything.  We ate at the restaurant there, only to discover after the meal that EVERYTHING on the menu had whiskey in it.  The appetizers, the soup, the salad, the dinner, the dessert.  (The whiskey in the whipped cream was divine.)  The children all slept like rocks that night.  An excellent demonstration of the thickness of the Scottish Brogue is by Robin Williams.  There is liberal use of the F word, so may not be SFW.  Damn funny, though.  ("And then we'll give them a tiny little flag, so they can have some hope!")

Back to Inverness - part of the reason we had gone there (other than to sample their Haggis - uck - and their alligator - yum) was to go see where the Battle of Culloden was fought.  The terrain in Culloden was incredibly rough, and I couldn't believe that anyone without horses, artillery, etc., could fight on it, but they did. 

Luckily for us, we had arrived 1 day after the 252nd anniversary of the battle.  The day of the anniversary the weather had been so bad that they had canceled all activities and rescheduled them for the day we were there.  There were all kinds of people walking around in traditional Scottish garb, with swords, pistols, etc.  Spotting a photo opportunity, my buddy L stopped several men and asked them if they would be willing to kill her children so she could take a picture.  They agreed:

   

They look really scared with those big grins, don't they?

One of the things I discovered that day is that contrary to what the Fashion Police might tell you, it is actually considered acceptable (at least in Scotland) to wear more than 1 tartan at a time.  If you have ancestors from 4 different clans, then wear all of them.  Its OK.  Its bright, but OK.

Because I am such a geek, I had to take a picture of the Fraser family stone.  I was a huge fan of Diana Gabaldon's book Outlander (which El Jefe calls "Scottish P*rn.")..

This is all very nice, you are thinking to yourself, but what about what is under the kilt??

I am arriving at that part of the story.  I was holding S and watching the parade when I realized she needed to be changed. 

I started walking back to the car, via the trail.

Off to the side about 25 yards away was a man picking some heather.  He was wearing a traditional Great Kilt.  (Incidentally, Scotsmen would drop their kilts when fighting, and only fight in their long undergown, or Leine.  Much easier to fight without 9 yards of fabric draped around your body.)  I glanced at him again and realized that he was REALLY bending over that heather, and that his kilt was a little on the short side.  Because he was revealing to the world what God had given him.  (Also - Scotsmen typically wear something under their kilts when in America, because American women are cheeky and will peek.) 

I was horrifically embarrassed, and turned my red face away and started walking faster to the car.  An elderly couple approached me, all decked out in matching kilt/hostess kilt, Argyll jacket/lace blouse, etc.  At the time I thought they were Clan Chieftains, but I know now that this is just regular Scottish formal wear.  They looked at my red face, then saw Highlander Man off picking the heather.  They looked back at me, smiled hugely, and laughed.  The woman had tears in her eyes and patted my arm and waved at S as they walked by.  I high-tailed it to the car.

When the others joined me and asked me why I was so red (still), I explained what had happened.  Much merriment at my expense ensued. 

So I feel confident in assuring those of you reading this blog that Scotsmen do indeed wear NOTHING under their kilts.  At least the real Scotsmen don't.  Just ask them. 

* The title comes from a classic Scottish song called The Scotsman.  A poor drunken sot passes out under a tree.  Two passing ladies decide to peek under the kilt.  In appreciation they tie a little blue bow on him.  When he awakens and goes to pee, he finds the bow, and muses aloud, "I don't know where you've been, my lad, but I see you've won first prize."  A cartoon for your viewing pleasure.

Comments

[The Cheap Chick]

See now, when I was in Scotland, I only saw one man with a kilt. You got to see HUNDREDS - not fair!

BTW, cute cute cute pics of the girls. Weren't they sweet?

[angie]

I would indeed like to be the Earl of Duffus. Or at least the Lady of Duffus.