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A Lesbian Scot tries to use the restroom

Back in the 80’s right after I had come home from a month in Britain, I went to hear the Royal Massed bands with the Gordon and Sutherland Highlanders at UCLA with my parents. We used to go whenever any of the Scots Guards bands came to town.

At intermission I went and stood in the enormous long line for the women’s restroom and didn’t think anything about it until this expensively, badly dressed woman started asking me at the top of her voice if I was in the right line. Shouldn’t I be in the men’s room line?

She was making an effort to embarrass me and she was sure I was a man. I was dressed in a blue button down shirt and a tie my grandfather had left me, blue jeans and the blue Fairisle I had bought in Scotland and I had just had my hair cut short in a pixie cut. I had 44 D boobs at the time but I guess she could only see my clothes since I weighed about a 110 lbs at the time, you could see that my top story wasn’t really small.

I just stared at her because I really didn’t know what to do. How do you prove you’re a woman without stripping to some unintelligent bigoted yahoo? You can’t.
Thank heavens for little old Scottish ladies that are used to seeing women in ties for school or other things. This tiny old woman walked up to the old bigot and in a very thick Scottish Highland accent told her to shut her mouth and asked if she had a brain since it was obvious to her that I was a woman and that she really should invest in some glasses if she couldn’t tell.

The woman quickly left the line and the Scottish lady came over and patted me and reassured me that some people were just stupid and she went into the bathroom with me and that was it. I had an a least 80 year old fierce protector as only little Scottish grannies can be and I was so grateful.

When I got back to my seat and told my parents , it was a very good thing my dad didn’t have a claymore. He always got worked up at Scottish events and could yell during “Black Bear” with the loudest of them, something that used to make my brother and I want to crawl under the seats. There would have been blood. (http://cornemusique.free.fr/ukblackbear.php)

Nowadays it looks like someone would have called the cops and I would have had to pull down my drawers in public. This is all just wrong

I remember this day for my people. Blood of my blood

On Culloden field

http://www.nts.org.uk/Culloden/Home/

May the dead lie peacefully here
May they know their lines carried on all over the world
May they know we remember them
May they know we still bear their names
May they know that through us they still live
May they know we remember their bravery
in the face of a well fed and well armed army
when you were hungry and armed with little more than swords
against cannons.
May they know we remember the sometimes foolish seeming cause
May they remember
May we remember
May we remember
May we remember

I remember the Stewarts of Appin
I remember the MacGregors
I remember the Livingstons
I remember the Robertsons
I remember my dead.
Kat Robb

We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
in days of auld lang syne?

Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my dear
for auld lang syne
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pou’d the gowans fine
We’ve wandered mony a weary foot
Sin’ auld lang syne

We twa a sport’d i’ the burn
From morning sun ’til dine
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.

And there’s a hand me trusty friend
And gies a hand o’ thine
We’ll tak a good right willie-waught
For auld lang syne.

Robert Burns

And do me a favour, and don’t piss off me gran and please sing ‘syne’ not ‘zyne.

Brighid’s day is coming

Brighid, the flowers of spring are appearing

Brighid, the lambs are being born

Brighid, blessings are in your flame

Brighid, there is healing in your flame.

Brighid, we come to you at your time of year.

We come with a flame in our hearts

We come to decorate the wells of our hearts

And to light the flames of our being

We walk with you as you walk the land

Our hands take hammer in hand to reform ourselves on your anvil

We take shape as tempered, stronger beings.

We sing your songs

We dance in the fire

We come to you, Brighid at your time

And we thank you for the help you have given us this year

We offer our hearts and hands to your work.

We light your flame

We light your flame

We light your flame.

Kat