Wifey and went to a Scottish Festival this weekend. What fun!

We were there to see the sheep herding trials, but there were pipers to hear, dancers to watch, rocks to throw.

0K, I wasn’t signed up for any rock throwing or pole throwing, so I was spared the embarassment of learning there’s actual skill required of these events to partake. And chalk, lots of that.

“Now if we’re to make a habit of attending this type of Highland-ish sort of festivity,” says I to the missus, “I shall needs be purchasing myself a kilt.”

“Does that mean I can get a puppy?”

Uhhh, ummm… Hmmm. “Left field is that-a-way,” I indicated by pointing.

And what will wear underneath of such a garment? Oh yes, in the family plaid, of course!! But now I’ve an idea. Steady, Fido!