My story is about what DIDN'T get on my kilt. I'd received my new Ancient Hunting Mackintosh kilt that I was going to wear to my wedding. My son organized a pub dinner for me and around thirty of my relatives and friends for one week before the wedding and I planned to wear my new kilt to it. My dad, wise man that he was, counselled me not to wear my kilt. I reluctantly heeded his advice. Come the night, and several tables full of beer later . . . someone (I think my elder son) got up to go to the loo and lifted one of the tables as he did. A tidal wave of beer rushed down the table to the end where I was sitting. My p***s got soaked. My kilt, safe at home, did not.
"Touch not the cat bot a glove."
Originally Posted by josephkirkpatrick
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