Well I know you've all been waiting for my report on the Loch Norman Games.
Nudge, nudge, wink, wink....
So without further ado.
Loch Norman Games April 2012
Morning broke cool and cloudy and after several weeks of mid to upper 70’s…. 52 degrees was a rude surprise. Then to be on the road at 8:00am….. Oy!
But, nothing a cup of McDonald’s coffee couldn’t fix.
We made good time driving from Marshall NC to Rural Hills NC, a little more than three hours. The sun played hide and seek in the clouds the whole way and then came out in full when we pulled in to the immense field that was the parking lot.
And it filled up fast!
Things were well under way by the time we arrived. Sharon had the tent display looking fine; she obviously put a lot of work into it. Reliable sources tell me she did Clan Thompson proud the night before at the Calling of the Clans. Fred and Babs were there as well as Patsy and Tommy and a never ending stream of clan members and visitors. Rumor has it we gained two or three new members on Saturday.
The weather couldn’t have been better or hotter. There were clouds and a breeze but the sun was HOT! This reporter has sunburn…yes the appellation “redneck” would be very appropriate for the next few days.
So, off we (me and my man Robert) went to quench our thirst and to buy some lunch. The lines were long and it was hot waiting, but the” people watching” was superb. Robert tried to decide between Bridies, Haggis pockets or sausage rolls. “What’s the difference?” he asked. The explanation from someone in line was “…ground meat, onions and spices all wrapped in pastry… all of ‘em.” I had the Scotch egg.
We sat at the communal table and I asked one of the diners how his egg was, “Needs mustard” was his reply. Shortbread for desert and then suitably fortified we set off to investigate the music tents. Alex Beaton was there as well as Rathkeltair (the only Scottish band with their own brand of hot sauce, seriously, I can’t make this stuff up), the Rouges and several other bands whose names escape me at the present; then on to the Highland Dancing Competition. Of course along the way I ducked into various tents selling all manner of items of Scottish/Celtic nature and lost Robert in the crowd. Not to worry though, I knew he’d find his way back.
As I rounded a tent corner I ran into a border collie that stopped for a quick pet then went on with his doggy business. Shortly after that, the golf cart brigade (there were a few giving rides around the grounds to those that needed them) and I witnessed the “de-pantsing” or in this case the” de-kilting” of a gentleman who had more belly than his belt could support and still keep his kilt up. Fell down right to his ankles it did! Thank goodness he was wearing his shirt long!
Later in the day at the sheep herding event the same gentleman and dog were out on the field. Needless to say his belt was good and tight with shirt neatly tucked in.
Further on, I saw several t-shirts that made me laugh out loud. Took pictures of two, one said “Sit, Stay, Drink”. The other was worn buy an older gentleman (who spoke Gaelic by the way!) which read, “Scotch. Making white men dance since 1494.” Hilarious!
Took a look around at a tent where they were making knives, another tent where weaving was being done and of course near and dear to my heart, the tent where they were selling silver jewelry. Part magpie I am, anything shiny draws me and I must pick it up. All the while I am snapping pictures at everything and anything. (No, I did not get one of the poor man losing his kilt.)
Stopped at the athletic field to watch the wool bag toss and the caber toss, I tell you what those guys are serious athletes, big and burly! Wandered back to the tent to chat with Patsy and Babs and cull some pictures. I must get a real camera, I had 80 pictures on my phone and it was running out of memory. So, I tossed out the ones of the ground and my feet, also the ones of the ceiling of the tent and the privy. (Hey, I never said I was a professional photographer.) Once I had some memory freed up I went back out to snap some more.
Got a picture of one of my favorite people (the Drum Major) I see every year. He was all tricked out in the bear skin hat, the huge baton and all the silver just a shining ……………what do they call them? Drum Major, yeah that’s it.
Anyway I caught up with him at his Clan tent and we had a lovely chat. Seems he wears his Dad’s kit from 1951 and it looks to be complete. Kilt, sash, sporran jacket the whole nine yards…. he wears it well and proudly.
Made my circuit around the Clan tents; snapped photos of the Fraser tent (have a few of those in my ancestry) and the Hays, our neighbors from last year. I visited the famous historic encampment. Took several pictures there including one of a gaily striped tent complete with a severed head on a spear. OY!
The day passed pleasantly and far too fast. Soon it was time for the awards as the sound of bagpipes grew louder out on the field. Once they were all in place, (some say over 500 pipers!) the honored guest, Archibald Angus Charles Kennedy presented the awards. The Stars and Stripes as well as the Saltire were snapping in the wind as the pipers played the final songs. The last few words I heard from an older gentleman were, “No wonder the English banned the bagpipes; they stir the blood, don’t they?”
That they do Sir…… that they do.
