From what i gather, my mother and father met because they were both involved in Scottish country dancing at university. My father married in a kilt of our family's tartan. They started dancing again just before the divorce, and my sister and i went along to dance aswell. I don't have my kilt any more, not that it would fit 15 years later...
We only lived in Scotland for a year - i think it was 1987. I remember house music and computer games and grim Glaswegian weather and black pudding and Ben Nevis and Loch Lomond. I remember an audio book i had of Scottish ghost stories; my sister had another one with more traditional folk stories. "Look at the mouldy hand, m'lord, the mouldy meatless hand, m'lord!" A spooky, quavering voice i'll never forget.
We visited St Andrews, where my parents met. It's a beautiful university town by the sea with the original golf course and one of those awesome Scottish graveyards. What a place for a kid to play, amongst the tombstones and tenements of the ruined cathedral... I wonder whatever happened to the photos my parents took.
I should think about that more often, about where i came from. And one day i should go back to visit...
