The Curious Case of the Missing Kilts, a Victorian Mystery

[way2fractious]

im not getting it ...

Don't feel bad, switchblade. With a nouveau novelist, one must suspend preconceptions, and await with patience the emergence of the essence. :rolleyes:

So, Panache, you have a English gentleman as executive editor? or as creative consultant?

Perhaps at a future kilt night we will witness whether life mirrors art. This could be interesting when Sinbad and Xena are joined on the dance floor by you and the F-H, B-T, C, A, G.

w2f (without two feet)

[turpin]

But where are the pictures? Is this gonna be a chapter book? nnnnhhhhhh!

[Panache]

The Flame-Haired Amazon Goddess and I, having undertaken the daunting task of determining if the Scottish country dancers of our fair city did uphold tradition and proudly display brave tartans in kilted garments whilst engaged in the traditional dances of Scotland, had ventured forth to make our inquiries. As it so happened a great gathering of the clans had commenced and we hastened to the site. Everywhere we walked we saw the bright tartans and proud banners that proclaimed that here, at this time and place those who felt the course of brave Celtic blood (and perhaps one or two drams too many of scotch whiskey) within their very veins held dominion. Quickly discovering this gathering to be one of the largest of it’s kind presented us with the daunting task of trying to cover as much ground as possible in our limited time.

Finding ourselves in need of some base of operations to proceed with our investigations in an orderly fashion, Fortune smiled on our quest with a chance meeting with a good hearted gentle fellow of our acquaintance. Well known within the ranks of our forum for his prodigious talent, and easily recognizable to us for his tall stature and resemblance to the Great Emancipator (at least so far as he had seen fit to grow his whiskers in the manner of Illinois’ favorite son). We approached him in hopes that he might direct us to some place where we could gather our thoughts and make what preparations might occur to us in the pursuit of our quest. Providence must have guided us for our friend greeted us heartily. Forthright on hearing of our need for shelter he boldly did put the resources of his clan’s encampment at our disposal, such hospitality is not uncommon among the Highland clans whence they gather. In fact many a stout hearted member of our forum did share this self same hospitality. Whilst enjoying a cold malted beverage procured for us by our earnest host, I must admit to a moment of weakness. It occurred to me that a greater study of the cumulative effects of cold malted beverages on the average kilted man might have greater importance than our current case. My lovely companion pointed out that my lethargy was slightly out of place, commencing as it were well before any actual effort. I endeavored to explain that it was only in anticipation of the great weariness of combing through the throng in an effort to locate Scottish country dancers that stalled my progress. I reached for another refreshment and settled wearily into a comfortable chair under her scornful gaze. As I contemplated and silently gave a wordless toast to the unknown fellow , perhaps a denizen of ancient Sumer or UR who one fine day invented the art of brewing, my gaze fell to rest on a small stage some few yards distant. I was taken by the sudden realization that my companion’s apparent lack of sympathy may have had it’s root cause in the close proximity of a group of people Scottish country dancing a mere stone's throw away. I observed that the male dancers all wore kilts, and having noted their appropriate Scottish attire felt inclined to consider the case closed. I gleefully reached for another beverage content my work was done.

It was at this juncture that the F-H.C.A.G. suggested that dancers demonstrating at a Highland gathering could not be used as a sample to determine that kilted attire was the norm at their weekly practice. Regrettably finding truth in her words I rose, noting she immediately commandeered my refreshment. I sauntered over to the representative in charge of the display and after some pleasantries and discrete questions was presented a flyer specifying the details of a forthcoming class in Scottish country dance.
With a time and place for an introductory presentation, I returned to my lovely lady, and (I hoped) what remained of my malted beverage. The Game was afoot and our next undertaking would be to join these dancers in close quarters and attempt to blend in with them as best we could to find the answers we sought..

To Be Continued

[Livingston]

This is very entertaining. I'll be watching this thread for a while. Great job Penache.

[Alan H]

Donning my pince-nez, and adjusting the wick length on my studies oil-lamp, I settle in for a further read....

[Panache]

It occurs to me that I should start this latest installment in the small adventures I have seen ( in perhaps a moment of spurious self dramatization) to record for the edification and amusement of the members of our forum, with the mysterious invocation “it was a dark and stormy night“. Sadly for my efforts as a teller of tales the early evening in which we had embarked to join the Scottish Country Dance class had proven neither dark nor stormy. Mother Nature lacking a sense of the dramatic (or more likely entertaining a higher sense of mischief) had seen fit to provide my lovely companion and I a clear sky and the rays of the dying sun to light our way to the hall in which we sought instruction.

We had prepared ourselves as best as we were able based on that information we were able to glean from various sources using that wireless device that so many hail as man’s greatest achievement in the propagation and spread of knowledge, whilst others condemn it as a contributor to idle hands that lead to the devil’s work (if not untold hours of games of solitaire.) We had procured for the lovely Flame-Haired Celtic Amazon Goddess a pair of dancing shoes which were known in the trade as ghillies. Previously I, in my great ignorance had thought to understood that a ghillie was a gentleman who would assist his Master in the maintenance and pursuit of game on vast Scottish estates. Apparently both meanings are accepted among Highland Culture. Which begs the question, did the position become named after the shoe, or did by some curious circumstances the shoe was somehow dubbed after it’s namesake by historical reason now lost in the midst of time? Also one ponders the philosophical query of "do ghillies wear ghillies?" But I digress (as usual). Equipped with footwear appropriate to the job at hand she had seen fit to dress in a demure fashion wearing a simple black skirt and cuffed white shirt. I endeavoring to both prove a complimentary companion to my companion and fit in amongst the male dancers had chosen a black wool kilt of good quality procured by one shop keeper named Jerald. A good fellow though one with the curious hobby of raising small flying rodentia. Which in of itself is not too out of the ordinary. I myself had an aunt devoted to raising prawns. This was never taken as an indication of any mental instability on the part of dear aunt Jacoba, at least not until she had to be committed to the sanitarium…but I digress again.

Having arrived and completed all the clerical requirements required to establish our position within the class, we set forth amongst our new peers to observe their attire. With the two exceptions of the male instructor and myself, all other males in the dance studio, be they newcomer or experienced, were clad only in short pants and polo shirts. I had smelling salts ready at hand should the F-H.C.A.G. grow faint at this revelation. As I approached her with the phial ready to assist she, as a matter of fact, informed me that if I didn’t remove the noxious bottle away from her nose she would in fact cause me severe bodily harm. Such is the spirit of my lovely lady that I quickly secreted the remedy away for future use before she finished winding up her arm to finish a stout roundhouse punch ( in which cicumstances I did hope she would use the salts to revive me.) Further study showed evidence of kilted fashion. Many amongst the more experienced gentlemen dancers wore the hose and flashes of highland dress-BUT NOT THE KILTS THEMSELVES! The mysterious scented woman was right! Within the cadre of the Scottish Country dancers there was a curious lack of kilts.

After several more classes we were unsuccessful in our efforts to find other kilted gentlemen. Many of the lady dancers sported various kilted skirts in familiar tartans. But aside from the instructor and myself there was not a tartan pleat to be seen on any other gentlemen present. My lady and I did fall prey to one small inconvenience. Based on our attire the various teachers refused to believe that we were lacking in experience. We had dressed the part too well and as a consequence spent many an hour learning pousette or the dreaded strathspey step instead of resting with the other beginners and drinking lukewarm tea, which our weary feet would have appreciated greatly.

At our latest class a great dance was announced. I was in the process of trying to splint my ankle with a small wooden coat hanger ill suited to the task, for we had been steady strathspewing for the better part of an hour. Wincing as I tried to stand I caught the gaze of the F-H.C.A.G. We nodded solemnly at each other. We would attend this dance, and in so doing hope to finally reach the heart of the this mystery and find the missing kilts.


To be Continued.

[cloves]

wow...I can't believe I missed this thread until now. Kepp up the good work Panache.

and so you all know (don't worry, I had no idea either)...... Syzygium aromatic is apparently the latin name for "cloves." *winks at Panache*

but for the record.....I am not the mystery woman. At least I don't think so.

[Panache]

wow...I can't believe I missed this thread until now. Kepp up the good work Panache.

and so you all know (don't worry, I had no idea either)...... Syzygium aromatic is apparently the latin name for "cloves." *winks at Panache*

but for the record.....I am not the mystery woman. At least I don't think so.

Ah but cloves, what of parasomnias? Far be it from me to suggest that you should suffer from that malady of somnambulism. But is not within the realms of possibility that this ailment could indeed take you from your normal spheres to travel in the realm of sleep to act as a catalyst to spur on kilted adventures? Perhaps one day when purusing your wardrobe you shall come across a hitherto unknown veil of black. At that moment perhaps you shall pause and wonder if indeed you are indeed a mysterious black clad lady...

Panache winks back at cloves

Cheers