I’ve just returned from a 10 day trip to Edinburgh in Scotland, well Musselburgh to be exact, where I got to meet 972 members of my partner’s family. Well, that’s what it felt like anyway – they were bloody everywhere. He’d promised me that I’d only meet them in small groups so when, on our first day, I met 23 of them at a birthday party, I knew that our understanding of ‘small groups’ was a bit different.

Anyway, I survived the clan gathering (just) and, with Ronnie and his son, proceeded to explore the delights of Edinburgh and it’s deep, and sometimes dark, history. But the event I was looking forward to the most, probably one of the most famous traditions in Scotland, and an evening where I could openly ogle men’s legs, was the Edinburgh Military Tattoo.

The show started off with a marriage proposal – don’t panic, it wasn’t us – which was gleefully accepted and kicked the evening off on a high note.

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Then, after the compere welcomed visitors from all over the world, the festivities began with a, if I’m honest, rather lacklustre performance from the Maltese contingent. Luckily they’d started with the worst and the show just got better and better with performances from many different countries.

I saw Scottish men in skirts, Maori warriors in skirts, Zulu warriors in skirts…ohhh and some Marines…there may even have been some other guys in trousers too but I don’t remember them (ahem).

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P1040212 P1040190It was completely different to what I’d been expecting. I’d steeled myself to spend 90 minutes listening to bagpipes, which I think we can agree, isn’t always the most restful listening experience in the world, but instead we were subjected to sights and sounds from all over the world. And, not only that, I became mesmerised with Edinburgh Castle itself which changed appearance every few minutes. In fact, if I’m honest, I probably spent more time looking at the Castle than I did at the performers.

Here’s just some of the ‘faces’ of the Castle:

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Finally the night came to an end with a haunting performance from a loan piper standing on the walls of the Castle and then we all filtered out, in a very British manner, feeling like we’d shared a very momentus occasion. The only person who obviously didn’t feel that way was the geezer shouting out of his window down the street, complaining about the noise. Ha! Well that’ll teach you to stay in a hostel on the Royal Mile during the Edinburgh Festival you dipweed.

Anyway, to finish, here’s a little snippet of the grand finale. Don’t judge me, I’m no Steven Spielberg…

 

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