I went to the Scottish Highland Games up in Winter Springs. Terry didn’t want to go, so this was a solo mission. The games were more crowded than ever this year. Police waved my truck along until I was just about in the next town over. I parked behind a MacDonald’s and hiked the half mile or so to the entrance. A blood donation truck was offering a pint of beer for a pint of blood.
The air was filled with the sound of bag pipes. I ran into Chad Bruce and Dana VanZandt who were perched on a hill top overlooking a medieval Scottish encampment. Chad was smoking a pipe which he said, indicated that they were upwind of the cow dung and downwind from the smell of the food vendors. He blew a puff of smoke that drifted behind them. I walked to the food vendors since I was starving, but the lines were too long.
Rather than watch the caber toss or sheep throw, I immediately went to the tent village full of family clans. There was no Thor Clan. I’m pretty sure there was some Scottish blood on my mother’s side of the family. Even if there wasn’t, I figured I’m Scottish enough for the day. What caught my eye was the World War II weapons on display with His Majesty’s (Scottish) Forces in Florida. The sergeant standing in front of the table became curious about my sketch and he informed me that he was an artist himself. It was a difficult spot to sketch since people kept stopping right in front of me to have long chats. The Reenacting Unit was representing the 51st (Highland) Division and the 5th (Scottish) Parachute Regiment.