Hamish McPherson, our neighbour, was a burly Scotsman who was very proud of his ancestry. Whilst you wouldn’t call him an alcoholic, he was known to over indulge occasionally. You’d know because he’d get out his bagpipes and toture all near and far residents in the valley for a few hours. Scotland The Brave is a moving tune on bagpipes but after an hour, it gets a bit much. I think it was the only tune he knew how to play.
We used to work in together with him sharing equipment. We had a hay mower, he had a baler, We would pool our resources and together bring in the hay harvest, so we soon became good friends with the McPhersons. So when we were invited to the Scottish Society’s Hogmanay celebrations we felt very honoured and readily accepted, on the proviso we took our own car of course.
Well it was one of the best parties I’ve ever been to. I danced so much that the next day, I couldn’t walk, my legs were so sore!
When the party was at that stage where you could see it was ending, Dad piled us all in the car and asked a very wasted Hamish if he wanted a lift home. Hamish was still in party mode and declined saying he’d get a taxi home. We figured as he hadn’t bought his car there anyway, he wouldn’y be driving home drunk, so it was safe to leave him there.
The next day, a very hungover Hamish appeared on our doorstep. He had caught a taxi home. He distinctly recalled the police roadblock waving him through without a breath test. The only problem was, he couldn’t remember who the taxi belonged to, that was now parked in his garage!