A quick kilt story to brighten up your day, I hope

Going back about four or five years, I was in Edinburgh for Hogmanay with my wife, Rexie. We had spent the afternoon wandering around Prince's Street, getting in a bit of shopping and watching out as the number of kilts on display started to rise as the hours passed. By midnight, of course, the North Bridge would look like Hampden Park or Murrayfield had just turned out but, at 5pm I was still somewhat conspicuous.

Not having an armband pass for the Prince's Street evening entertainment, we decided it was about time to head 'up the hill' onto the Mile towards our favourite pubs. As we were passing the train station, a chap was approaching, aged about 30 or so, along with what I took to be his parents. He started to make a manoeuvre that has become familiar to me over the years - he leant into his mum's handbag and pulled out a camera. He was about 20 yards from me at this point.

Now, many's the time I have stood next to somebody in various places, not just the capital, and waved at a lens saying things like, "Hello Texas/New York/L.A." and, sometimes, "Hello Tokyo/Helsinki/Johannesburg", you get the picture. But, this time, what followed had me creased up on the street. The bloke in question, looking straight at me, said, in a very deliberate, slow manner with lots of gestures, "Hello...my name is Brian (nodding at me, as if English wasn't my first language). Please, can I take your...photo (making a sign like he was taking a quick snapshot)?" For once, I stood in silence, aghast at the simple request.

Eventually, after a few seconds trying to take in this quirky character, I replied, "Uh, aye" and took up a pose akin to Prince Charles on retreat at Balmoral, you've seen the photos in the glossy mags. After taking a couple of shots, the chap then gave his piece de resistance by saying, "Thank...you...very... much" then, with a broad sweep of his hands towards his side and behind him he finished with, "They're for my...children (and with one final nod)...in England!"

Well, you could've knocked me down with a feather! The strained expression on this bloke's face cracked me up! It was if we were meeting up the Congo, or somesuch!

As I was leaving to go up Cockburn Street, I looked over my shoulder at this happy gent and shouted back, "You've never been north of the border, have you, sir?" His eyebrows shot up as if I'd shot an arrow at his forehead, dumbfounded that this big, Highland fellah had enough command of English to reply!

Hahahahahahahahaha...

I don't know what he did with his photos, but I'll never forget him, that's for sure!

Cheers

Bruce