Hawaiian escapades part the third. This Scottish-Hawaiian evening, billed as a “casual meet and greet social” promised “dancing, conversation and light refreshments” as well as the opportunity to display our aloha wear. We are soon greeted by several dancers, none of whom are Hawaiian. A couple from Brisbane who have flown over specially for this […]
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No Aloha
Another wee ramble from the new Hawaii Scottish country dancing debacle. … There’s an eerie silence as we trudge past the battered dumpsters, through the empty car park toward where our treasure map indicates that we might find the Mo’ili’ili Silent Dance Center. We turn the corner, see light streaming out of a quiet, small […]
No Hula Class Today
A wee excerpt from the new Hawaii chapter – love to know what you think of it! A stray cat hovers at the ramp to the parkade, waiting for us to clear off so it can return to a tasty snack of road kill pigeon. The parking lot is otherwise deserted. An occasional beat-up low […]
Scotswoman of the Year
Really, I should be pretty good at being Scottish. After all my mother was Scotswoman of the Year 1978 and you’d think the competition for top Scotswoman would be pretty fierce in Scotland. But my mother never taught me the basics of Scottish dancing, how to rustle up a succulent haggis or a nice creamy […]
The English Ambassador
Despite my staunchly Scottish take on life, it might surprise some readers to know that one of the contenders for the role of my very favourite human is, in fact, English. That’s right, he’s a Sassenach! An eight-year-old Sassenach called Wee Joe. Wee Joe is (a) wee, (b) named after my dad and (c) my […]
Who is the most awesome Scotswoman?
Ooh, look, it’s a poll! Vote now! [polldaddy poll=4913096]
The Ambassador
I am posting this wee chunk o’ the book again because (a) it explains where I came up with the name for the book and (b) because I am a slothful, lazy human who has failed to write anything new and amusing to entertain you with over the last week. Downtown Portland, Oregon, Rose Parade […]
No Knees in Memphis
At Memphis Scottish Festival, a large, boisterous man hustles me into a front row seat in what he tell me is “The History Tent.” I am alarmed to find myself equipped with a sheaf of lyrics to Jacobite love songs. I manage a tuneless drone along to “Over the Sea to Skye” and then start […]
Mosey on down to Kittrell, TN
At Memphis’ Scottish Festival, I get talking to a blonde woman in an olde stylee milkmaid type get up. She has the most Dukes of Hazzard accent I have yet heard in my time in Tennessee. I am delighted. I didn’t think accents like this were real. She asks me where I’m from. “Glasgow,” I […]
Eavesdropping in Memphis
Downtown Memphis is a half and half kind of place. Actually, three quarters and a quarter is more accurate. The majority of buildings is run down and ramshackle, while a select few are all slicked up for the tourists. A sign outside the Flying Fish instructs passers by to “Get Your Tails in Here” for […]
