Posted by Tania Kindersley.
Today was our highland games, which was a tremendous thing to come home to. I never thought that I would learn to love the sound of a massed pipe band, but now I think it one of the sweetest noises on earth. When the drummers pass you by, it is as if they are beating out the rhythm of your heart. There were men putting shots and tossing cabers, little girls in perfect buns dancing Scottish dances, and more dashing tweed than you could shake a stick at. My stepfather, who is like something out of Tailor and Cutter, wore a suit made for his grandfather, from a special Nairn tweed, and it looked as box fresh as if it had been cut yesterday. My brother ran in the hill race, and finished fifteenth, which was both thrilling and impressive, considering he is fifty years old.
Too tired to write any more, but here are some pictures:
Exhausted by all the mad highland activity, I came home and gazed at my plants:
I hope you are having a lovely weekend, even if you are not within the sound of bagpipes.