I and my father were just driving down to Fat Albert’s. I needed some smokes and cokes and he wanted to ride with me so we could talk football for awhile. As I passed the Presbyterian church down the road from my home, a large of procession of bag pipers and Scottish drums all dressed in kilts came parading out of the front entrance of the church signifying services were over.
“Stop the car and pull over,” My father said excitedly.
I pulled my Honda over to the side of the highway and rolled down my windows. The wonderful Scottish music wafting through my windows was beautiful. The things you get to see in this small town these days never cease to amaze me.
5 comments:
very nica blog.say the princess of
the dead sea.
Andrew,
Please take this small step.
Change your occupation in your profile from "mentally disabled" to writer. You obviously are a writer.
Proclaim it!
I'm jealous! I would have loved to have been able to sit there and listen to the bagpipes! Living in the city, the most I get is when my neighbor sits on his porch in the summer, playing his banjo! I could listen to him for hours! It's almost magical!
Unexpected surprises like this are the best!
Lovely post.
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