Surprise skirling

I was amazed to hear distant bagpipes as we walked down the main road this morning.

When we turned into Paradise Gully Road, there was a wee car parked on the gravel, and a small person wielding pipes next to it.

Of course I had to stop and listen. Nae bad.

It was Wee Jock formerly from the island of Muck, via Appin and Clydebank, now living in Oamaru. He is a member of the local pipe band, and a standby milker on local farms.

He finds quiet roads on which to play the pipes: the neighbours don't welcome the practices at home.

I am in a stormy and wet Dunedin this afternoon, seeing the consultant neurosurgeon about my back, so I won't be visiting Blip until tomorrow.