I do feel some ancestral affinity, in this case for my great grandparents Mitchell who came from Scotland to Milton, Massachusetts, in the late 1900s. That affinity shows itself in an irrepressible attraction toward pipe music. Where it plays, I follow.
Today, my London Cockney husband took me to the Glasgow Lands Scottish Festival which filled Look Park in Florence, Mass., with a satisfying infusion of pipe and drum music, Scottish foods, Scottish merchandise and crafts, and a roster of cultural events.
Here are some samples (some photos by Roy):
Traffic crawl on the Mass Pike prevented us from seeing the massed bands perform, but here's one drum band just breaking its post-show photo op pose:
We did see the gathering of the clans.
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| Roll call of the clans, each shouting a slogan in response. |
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| As the colorguard led the clans from the field . . . |
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. . . the dogs entered to oohs and
ahhs from the crowd. |
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| Scottish canine nobility. |
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| There's blue plaid and BLUE PLAID. |
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| Many clans had informational booths. |
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The answer -- not at all what one might
expect -- was printed on the back. |
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| It had been a hot and humid day to perform in woolens. |
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| Sheep dogs at work are always a wonder. |
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| Scottish foods were in ample supply. |
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| A Scots descendant and . . . |
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. . . an English gentleman
share an order of fish and
chips, laced with malt vinegar. |
We found a booth of Welshmen selling baked goods. The proprietor knew the village where Roy had been sent as a child during the Blitz of London. Sorry, no picture.
I'd love to attend a similar festival in the old country. I wonder if we out-Scot the Scots?!?
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This boy was not so sure
about his new, painted tattoo. |
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| A lone piper practices in the woods. |
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A balladeer entertained for hours.
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