Indeed, it was the annual homecoming parade that I traditionally miss year after year. This summer day, however, I'd heard the call early enough. Quickly rousing my daughter to action, we donned appropriate clothes and dashed off down the street just in time to to see...
the pipe major in fine fettle leading the troops past our vantage point.
There were pipers of all shapes, sizes and ages, blowing for all they were worth.
And one lucky guy who gets to bang on a big drum with fuzzy headed sticks.
Huzzah for the Hussars!
For those of you who missed my rather appropriate Maxim of the Week on my Ragzedge blog a week or so ago, I'll share it with you here as an added bonus...
For many parade spectators, Robbie cleared up the mystery about what a Scotsman wears under his kilt.
Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.
Fortunately, there was no Robbie to rain on our parade!
(More exciting parade pictures in the days to come. Don't give up your place on the blogwalk.)