The Curious Case of the Missing Kilts, a Victorian Mystery

[Panache]

{ The circumstances of the acquisition of this manuscript are somewhat out of the commonplace and this fact in itself may stand as a warning that this account is to be regarded as suspect. A small gliding member of the family sciuridae wearing a miniature version of the feileadh-beag (likely in the Gunn tartan, but unconfirmed) dropped several pages of neatly folded foolscap on the head of a distinguished and respected member of our forum, who shall in respect to his privacy not be identified. The gentleman in question was at his home in West Sussex and engaged in a casual perusal and inventory of the 67 odd kilts in his ”kollection“ when his solitude was interrupted by the sudden arrival of the flying mammal. The manuscript was dropped unexpectedly, unceremoniously and from great height onto his noble brow. The gentlemen’s body struck a dynamic position of readiness for fight or flight. (It should be noted that the gentleman later adopted this stance as his signature pose for photographic representations with great success) .

Upon reviewing the papers it appeared to be an account of another member of the forum and his experiences in undertaking a Scottish country dance class, or it may have been a pastiche of a Victorian mystery. A third distinct possibility of the whole thing being a load of rubbish is not to be discounted lightly. With a stern mutter of “what nonsense” the gentlemen proceeded in the course of time to present the pages to the alleged author. Said author (who as you may have presumed is none other than myself) has chosen to deliver the manuscript to our forum without further comment or testimonial. Enjoy.}

I was reposing in the library of my humble domicile enjoying one of France’s most celebrated playwright’s finest works and listening to Jacqueline Du Pre’s exquisite performance of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 in G. I was of a mind to replenish my glass of cognac, but this chain of thought was broken by the ringing of the doorbell. A young lady was shown to my library. I offered her a seat. She was clothed in black kilted skirt made of durable material with shirt and hat of the same colour. She wore a long black veil that obscured her face. The only distinctive feature of my visitor was the very faint scent of Syzygium aromatic. She spoke briefly and to the point, a habit that I myself have sadly never been wont to succumb to. Through her veil she regarded me and spoke cryptically “Panache, are there kilts to be found amongst the Scottish country dancers of San Jose California?“ With this she rose and departed. I was left with her question hovering between myself and the empty chair where the slight fragrance of the compound Eugenol still lingered.

Lacking a current project to direct my energies to, I made a rapid decision to undertake an investigation into the subject. I went looking for my lovely and trusted companion to assist me in this latest endeavor. I found the Flame-Haired Celtic Amazon Goddess in the small workshop of our home in an uneven temper. If the truth were to be told she had an axe to grind, literally. She was at my grinding wheel putting the finishing edge on a short fighting and throwing axe commonly known as a francisca. “My Dear, we’re needed” I jauntily exclaimed. The fact that the axe embedded itself into the stout wood of the door mere inches from my nose is a testament to her skill rather than an indication of it’s want. “You keep dropping off the “Blood Thirsty” part of my description when you write about me on your forum!” she announced. “Just trying to civilize you my dear”, I softly replied. I then proposed to her that I was interested in an investigation into kilts at Scottish dance classes here in our native city. She readily agreed to accompany me in such a query and quickly changing from her leather skirt, armor, and weaponry to attire more appropriate for vigorous Celtic dancing. Grabbing my plumed hat we sallied forth out the door.


In true Victorian fashion this manuscript will be offered in installments.

[switchblade5984]

im not getting it ...

i guess theses will be one of those things i have to read completely!

[JimB]

OH Good!
I can't wait for the next installment

[starbkjrus]

OH Good!
I can't wait for the next installment

(rubbing hands vigorously in anticipation....)

Me either!

[cessna152towser]

Keep drinking the cognac to give you the inspiration to write the next bit!

[Alan H]

The FHBCAG.........

...in a Xena, Warrior Princess outfit, including Axe...

He grows faint with excitement at the lurid image, and mops His febrile brow. He then proceeds to make a place in His bookshelf, next to the novels illustrated by Boris Vallejo, where this tome shall surely rest.

[Monkey@Arms]

Loved the prologue STOP Eagerly awaiting next installment STOP

BR STOP J

[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