The MacBitseach

Saturday night I saw the Chieftains at the Surrey Fusion Festival. I would have gone just to say I'd seen them but, having seen some TV shows about The Chieftains, I knew I'd have a good time. When I arrived after an hour's bus ride, The Halifax Wharf Rats were playing. They play at every Kilts Night but on the outdoor stage, they seemed to be even better than normal. I grabbed some chicken and rice from the Phillipino tent, (it is a multicultural festival), which was very tasty. I found it odd that at a concert for the most famous Celtic band in the world, (Paddy Maloney started The Chieftains 47 years ago), I was the only person I saw, outside of performers, wearing a kilt. (And received all the kilt flirts for the evening! Not two, or a few, or several, but ALL the flirts!) The Chieftains show was amazing! It had all the appeal of Riverdance with the feel of a ceileigh. Aside from the Chieftains, (musical mastery, humour, and it looked like they were actually enjoying th

Ever since I was a kid, I liked to take things apart and figure out how they worked. Still do. While I don't take people apart, it's still fun to try and figure them out and people watching is a must for any writer. Sometimes though, it's enough just to watch, enjoy, and not wonder. I'm walking home from the grocery store, wearing a restored wool MacDonald kilt. (I know ... but if I don't say what I was wearing, I'll get emails wanting to know!) It's dark and I'm about to cross at a sidestreet when I hear a car slowing to turn in front of me. There's two guys in the front seats and two people in the back. I stop and wave the car ahead of me and I hear a woman's voice from the dark inside of the back seat. I can't tell you anything more about her than she was a woman. No looks, age, or anything else was revealed to me. "Woohoo! Sexy kilt!" she yelled. Then from the front, one of the guys said, "Shut up, slut," in a manner o

As a writer, I often hear things that I question, things that most people would shrug off as inconsequential. I thought of one of those things while walking with Raphael to his place from the Highland Games. I was once told that I shouldn't wear my denim jacket with my kilt because it reflected badly on other kilt wearers, whom I was representing. At the time, I probably said something like, "I'm not representing anyone but myself!" I was telling Raphael this story as we walked and I thought of the answer I wish I'd had back then. "I'm not trying to tarnish the reputation of kilt wearers. I'm trying to raise the reputation of denim jacket wearers!" There have been swings in the kilted communities. At first kilts were a 'movement'. Wearing a kilt made you part of the movement for men's fashion freedom. My response was, "When I have a movement, I don't want a bunch of guys around. Just some paper." The trend lately has bee