It just started badly...I didn't have a lot of cash but they had an ATM machine which was great. Though it kept rejecting my card, so I had to cash advance my Visa. I think that's like 176% interest to cash advance from that. No matter though--we were going to have fun!
I paid $24 to get in ($14 for me, $10 for the kid) - that's a lot. I was certain they provided a free meal or something though.
I really wanted to go to see the Scottish traditional games - throwing heavy lead objects across the yard. I was highly disappointed with it. They had an announcer, but he told us NOTHING about the games. We just sat out by the field, in a light rain, eating fish and chips that probably took 6 years off our life, watching large, bulky, sweaty men throwing random things around. Oh-and don't forget the primeval grunting going on. The announcer would sometimes announce that so-and-so had a great throw. But there were 5 games going on at the same time so we really had no idea who was who or what a good throw was. But that's fine-it was still interesting and entertaining-better than sitting in front of the tv for sure!
And we found that most men in the athletic competitions wore shorts under their kilts!
Give your rock a little hug. Whisper something sweet to it, wish it good luck.
Grunt loudly-as if your lower intestine were being uncurled.....and then THROOOOOOOOOW!
Hold your breath and hope your little rock has made you proud.
Here's another great one:
Grab your heavy-looking bell thingy. Stand and think hard. Take deep breaths. Let the crowd feel the excitement.
Lift with a grunt and SWING and SWING and SWING.
T H R O W
And don't forget the ever-popular Cabor Toss - lift a large tree trunk and try and flip it multiple times. That was one of my favorites.
Then we headed to watch the Kilted Mile-men running in skirts-fun!
Next up, the dancers!
We sat at some bleachers..and the kid starts complaining about his legs hurting from touching the bench in front of him. I brushed him off and told him he was fine and leave it alone.
And then my arms started stinging where they were touching the bleachers....like a bunch of little bee stings. No good.
So we moved to the other bleachers and found that we could not touch the spots of our skin where they had touched those bleachers. We made a quick pit stop at the first aid tent and got some calamine lotion and was told it was probably old fiberglass...huh? Shouldn't there be a sign? Shouldn't they be blocked off?? The Scottish Bleachers---no good.
And then......we get back to my car and start driving away---and find we have a flat tire. Some wonderful good Samaritan stopped to help us (cause I'm a girl) and then we headed straight to Les Schwab (cause I'm a responsible girl). Mr. Schwab let me know that some bad Samaritan tested his knife out on my tire. Yeah, that's great. Thanks Scotland festival for having 12 different booths with knives of various sizes available to some drunken Scots of all ages within half a mile of the parking lot.
Long Live England!!!