Tattoos,

Body art is pretty common in Scotland. As with the art that people hang on their walls, some of it is quite beautiful; some of it makes one wonder if a doting grandparent set their grandchild loose with a needle and some ink; and some of it is just plain regrettable. There are numerous tattoo parlours, and their names are as punny as those of hairdressers in the US.

We do not, in general, care for ink and needles body art. Some of this attitude comes from religious bias and some from the fact that tattoos are so permanent. I am not a total stick-in-the-mud. I'm not crazy about most hair dye, but appreciate that at least the perpetrator can create something glorious to suit their current mood and age, and then later change one's mind. Nail polish as an art production medium has my personal seal of approval. More especially when used to adorn nails. So you may or may not be surprised to know that Richard and I recently spent a whole evening and tons of money (a goodly percentage of our children's inheritance) for the privilege of admiring a tattoo.

The Edinburgh Military Tattoo is a big deal. It runs for about three weeks each year at the beginning of August, rain or shine. A performance has never been canceled for weather. I'm not sure if a performance has ever been cancelled for any reason. On our particular night it rained during the day.

We had purchased lightweight hooded ponchos (a pack of five) to wear in addition to our normal rain gear, so we could stay dry no matter what, but were hopeful mid-afternoon, when we saw the weather forecast change from "rain all evening" to "rain until 8 pm, then clear." The tattoo started at 9 pm. Still, we went well prepared, with warm clothing, raincoats, ponchos, water, snacks, everything, in fact, except a towel to dry off our seats before we sat on them! We remembered the towels but the taxi arrived in our parking lot before we had packed them and they were forgotten in the scramble to get out of the door. Yes, we booked a taxi to take us up the hill to Edinburgh Castle. It's a little less than a mile and a half by road from our flat - a mile straight up the hill from Holyrood Palace. (hence the "Royal Mile" the one mile stretch between Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood.) Richard would have trotted up with ease, but was being protective of his spouse, hence the taxi. The taxi took the most interesting route imaginable--not quite via the Irish Sea--but we forgave him because the roads were crowded and busy and we honestly think he was doing his best. It was not possible to book a taxi to get home, btw. The taxi companies said just to give them a ring when the show came out and they would arrange a place to meet up. The top end of the Royal Mile was closed to motor vehicles, so we walked the last bit anyway

So there we were up in the nosebleed section but with an excellent view of both the arena and the castle, with soaking wet seats and nothing with which to dry them, We dashed off as much water as we could with our hands and a couple of tissues, and then sacrificed two of the ponchos to provide a dry surface to sit on.




The show itself was quite memorable, but before the show itself we had to endure an introduction by the narrator. In his mellow, somewhat monotonous voice, he greeted us all and then proceeded to greet by name and wish a happy birthday/wedding anniversary/trip to Scotland for every soul who had arranged, probably at a price, for this distinction to be granted them. It carried on for at least three continuous days, although, in fact, it couldn't have been more then 30 minutes on the clock, because that's how early we arrived. We could not wait for the show to start, thinking that the narrator would then cease and desist, but when the show began he just started working from a different script, which allowed for him to pause and catch his breath during most of the music.

The music itself was a delight. Military bands are not my thing, but they were so good!  The massed bagpipe band was phenomenal. At one point I counted 13 rows of bagpipers with 13 bagpipers in each row. They were marching and moving in interesting ways, so I would not swear to that being an accurate count, but it was close. You remember the theme song of The Music Man? Well in this case one hundred and 76 (more-or-less) trombones bagpipes led the big parade! It was decidedly impressive. And then of course, there were all the other instruments.  We thoroughly enjoyed all of the music, from the individual and massed military bands, to the lone piper playing from the ramparts of the castle.

The precision of the performances of the military groups matched the excellence of the music. A military drumming team from Italy was memorable. We were also impressed by a spectacular display of coordinated bayonet twirling and tossing by a team from the US. the showpiece being when a member of the team marched between two crossing rows of spinning rifles with the bayonets just missing him in front and behind.
We were also presented with folk singing and dancing from various ethnic groups, performed with greatly varying degrees of professionalism. (Hey folks, I'm trying to be kind here.) Some of the groups were very, very good. There were some performances by children, always a delight. Some high school girls dressed in cute gingham kilts did some well-practised sword dancing. A recitation of "Breathes there a man" reminded us that we were very much in Sir Walter Scott's home territory, as did the singing of Robbie Burns' "Auld lang syne" with the entire audience linking arms and swaying to the tune.

Probably the most impressive participant in the evening's events was Edinburgh Castle itself. The castle was a wonderful backdrop for all the events, serving as a projection screen for scenes ranging from hot air balloons through the RAF exploits during WWII and on into space flight. It would probably help if at this point I mentioned that the overarching theme for the show was the history of flight. The castle also served as the base from which the fireworks took off. Richard was very much aware of this as he bought tickets and our seats had a great view of everything.

After the show we started heading down the hill, along with thousands and thousands of other people. The crowds gradually began to thin out as we proceeded further down the Royal Mile, and by the time we reached Holyrood it would have been silly to call a taxi, we were just a few minutes from home. Walking through Edinburgh close to midnight was quite delightful, though, as missionaries, we should probably not make a habit of it!

We enjoyed the tattoo. Richard, of course, looked up the origin of the term; it had to do with the closing of the taps in the bars (in Europe) when it was time for the soldiers to return to camp - tap toe ("shut the (beer) taps").  'oe' in this case is pronounced like the oo in book.

**Warning** Sexist comment follows. I was going to call this post "Men in Skirts" but I couldn't bring myself to do it. "Skirt" has a feminine ring to it, and when a woman wears a kilt it does indeed turn into a skirt. A scotsman in full regalia, however, is the picture of masculinity. Of course it helps that most of those who choose to wear kilts have rather good knees!

Will we attend the tattoo again? Probably not next year, as our mission will end before then. As for the future, who knows! However we may well buy the CD, when it is released in October.