For the only time in 10 plus years I heard the pipes in Ber-Wick this morning. For a second I thought I had been beamed up to Embra, but no, there he was, parading from Boots, via Thornton's Chocs towards the old town hall where there was a food (not Scottish as it happens) festival in full swing. The image from Flickr (thankyou Orin Optiglot) does him some justice although he had no moustache. Nor did he have an offertory dish, but this did not prevent a sweet elderly Scottish expat lady ( I am making three assumptions here), overcome with patriotic emotion, from thrusting money into his hand during a short break in the performance.
Smiling, and with a tiny bob(no pun intended) he handed the specie back and said something I did not quite catch. Was it : 'Thankyou but I am not a mendicant piper unlike that disgrace to the Kilterhood in Princes Street' or, just possibly in these times of some inflation and collapsing house prices;
'Sorry. It's not enough. Missus
(Or putting it more traditionally : I am sending you hame
Tae think again)
Labels: Berwick, Mendicant Pipers