The Summer of '93

Supporting role

Friday dragged at work and I left Gwynedd at 16:30. I got home for 7pm. I must have been mad, then driving up to Scotland but I was so keen to be with him. I got to the Scotsman at 11:25. The bar was caked with people. I cut my way through. The music danced around the small container that was the pub. The odour of cigarette smoke floated above and mingled with the movement. The lighting was brash and the bar was full of conversation and laughter with the odd interjection of a drunken bellow. I was so focused on Ali that I never stopped to think that this was an alien place to me. But I had started to get to know some of the locals so it was a welcoming environment. Ali turned around and beamed. He scooped a leathery hand around my waist and pulled me in for a drunken kiss. His action had me levitating.

Next to him were some of his usual posse; Alex, Murray, the star bagpiper and John. Alex was pleasant and quiet. He was tall, with a piper's beard and Nana Mouskouri glasses that framed his black hair. Meanwhile Murray was someone who everyone in the pipeband circle looked up to. I couldn't understand why as although he was was quiet and jovial with me, he had a reputation for having an air of overconfidence in keeping with his pint size stature. I never saw him without a drink since everyone who was in the know, circled around him and bought him drinks. Ali knew him from the Battalion in Berlin. Murray had served in the Gulf war and was famous within the Pipe band fraternity. His claim to fame was that he had played music before he could read. He'd got piping in his ancestry and he'd been tutored by the Piping elite. I reflected on what must have happened to him as like Ali, he had been a marmite character in his Battalion circle. Ali and John had been drinking buddies and like all good drinkers, John was an amenable but clearly noticeably quiet. He was part of the furniture and was to be found at the end of the bar. Life had not been kind to John and it reflected in his hunched focus over his drink. He would be categorised in the hall of fame when it came to the School of hard knocks. He was at home in the Scotsman's bar parlour and his other drinking den, the darkened bar of the Hebrides, nestled in the less travelled, but established drinking dens, situated in the older area of town. I identified that bar as a dark and gloomy pub that we always frequented for serious drinking. The lights glowed low there and I cannot imagine it ever saw much sunshine as hardened drinkers always patronised it after midnight. It was the after hours lock in Mecca like the Scotsman. John brooded and nursed his liquor that was nestled in a small glass. He was always well dressed and polite but instantly recognisable. Murray's fate was similarly colourful. I had read that he was found guilty of ten year spate of being a child abuser whilst teaching Piping at a private school.

Ali bought me a drink and had two to himself - a beer and a whisky chaser. I was his lift home, so Ali collected his bags from the cellar and we took the bags to the car after saying goodbye to all in the bar. I had booked a B&B from my little B&B book and headed to bed. It was so welcome to be in our usual room on Gilmore Place. Ali had asked for an iron when we arrived. I was so relieved it was Friday. I fell asleep in his arms. Tomorrow was going to be a draining day!

The alarm rudely awoke me at 7am. I looked up at Ali As he blinked and focuses and he gave me a comforting squeeze. He had a lot of kit to get into and after a flurry of shower and towels he looked the part. As always, we were late. He was dressed in his hose, brogues, kilt and jacket. He looked fine and sharp. Before the days of 'sat navs' it was map reading that had to be relied on and we got lost on the way to the Barracks, driving via Rosslyn Chapel.

For me it was quite intimidating, walking into a pack of pipe band officianados. It was a room of soldiers smoking like their lives depended on those cancer sticks. I was nervous for Ali as he fidgeted and looked like the coil spring inside was about to unravel at any moment. He looked preoccupied and bit his lip and fumbled with his hands.

I recognised the leader from the Edinburgh Tattoo that August and he was master of ceremonies today. He made a speech about the order of play. I was completely shocked when he came to me and asked me to be involved. He directed a hat to my hand and said "Here, pick a name!" I followed the instructions nervously, unravelled the paper and handed it to him. I think having a female turn up to these events was unusual even when family was invited too.

Ali signalled for me to follow, where he was adjusting his drum that was sat on the floor by his kit. His nerves were perceptible. I met with his parents and drained a cup of tea. We settled in the spectator area and soon Ali's name was called to participate. Every person came back groaning about the nerves affecting their performance, as they returned to their seated supporters.

Ali was a joy to watch. He was one with his drum and totally focused. His love of the pipe band partly defined who he was. Immediately there was obviously something wrong. His Piper who he was accompanying was playing the wrong tune. Ali was completely diverted by this. He asked if we could go and get him some Irn Bru and cigrarettes. My loathing of cigarettes never flailed but I complied. Ali then obviously wanted to be on his own to console himself with the turn of events that had plagued his day. I went inside and chatted to the friends of his that I knew and left him alone. I listened to the other competitors. I had met one at the barracks in Aberdeen.

It was so obvious that Ali was bitterly disappointed. We left for the NAAFI to get a drink.
Ali played again with a clean slate. He was so animated when he played, stamping and bending over his drum, to the phrasing of the music, his face reflecting the music phrasing, This was the elite force that he was competing against. It was the crème de la crème of the Scottish pipe band forces scene. The pipe band was at the heart of the regiments and each had its own competing band that fed into the tattoo event, that runs yearly at Edinburgh castle.

For some unfathomable reason Ali had also entered the bugle competition too! I sat with the rest later, listening. Having played the cornet when I was ten I had picked up this bugle but I was out of practice. The muscles in my lips were not up to the task.

Ali had practised with the piper whilst drumming on a table. They use drum pads for when not playing the drum itself. It was a really authentic sound surprisingly. He played superbly. I winked at him as he left the competition area. He just have felt really relieved. He now thankfully, looked satisfied and must have been content with playing at his best. I was really chuffed when he said later,

"Your smile at me coming off the stage was a good omen. It wasn't just the Greeks who were superstitious."

One particular drummer really stood out. This chap cleared the board at the competition. As expected, Ali didn't do too well with the bugling!

It was tea and then for lunch at the pub for 13:30 and enjoyed a cheese toastie. In the car and we drove in silence; Ali was deep in his own thoughts and I was happy to just drive. The results were announced and Ali closed in on Alan and some of his regiment friends. Alan as a sergeant and was also well known in the pipe band circuit. Ali came third, and given the company he was in that was really impressive. I watched him collect his medal and pause, mechanically to have his photo taken. It was subtle but I could clearly see the total disappointment on Ai's face. We said goodbye to his parents and I was so glad when he let me know he was coming down for a trip to Wales! Another two days with him. Into the car. 

The road was especially dark as we drove and along an unlit A road. We stopped at a petrol station. "I'll fill her up!" Ali told me and opened the car door and I watched him fill the tank in my mirrors. He strode into the Garage and took a while. I presumed he was buying some cigarettes. It was cold when the engine was turned off and I wrapped my coat a bit tighter around me whilst I sat waiting.

Ali opened the door, thrust some tic tacs into my hand and something else, "Here this is for you!"

"Thank you!" I replied and saw he'd bought me a celtic knot keyring. 

"I thought that would look nice on your keys and stop you losing them." he laughed.

I stretched up to kiss him. 

"So what do you want to do this evening?", he asked.
"I had noticed there was a Ceilidh on but it's actually a karaoke. I'm not really up for that. Let's get some chips and how about the Cinema?"