Being a polite sort of person; I left a comment on his blog thanking him for his kind attention and went on to spend a considerable part of my day hogging his blog! You see, I discovered a thing or two about our host and am now looking forward to seeing Donal in all his glory 'flying' around the stage at the Tivoli Theatre on New Year's Day!
In fact, I was so excited about the whole thing that I dedicated a whole post about it! Let's say no more about that particular subject, shall we; especially as my reward was being tagged by Donal! Being tagged is something I don't really mind and the more often it happens the better you get at remembering what people don't know about you and the stranger the better!
The difficult thing about being tagged is not tagging the same people each time; or indeed the same people who tagged the people who tagged the people who tagged you! Phew; that's a mouthful if ever there was one. One of my tagee's is Lorna who owns Garrendenny Lane Interior's contacted me yesterday; exclaiming that she was unable to find the afore mentioned post on either of my blogs! Whoops!!!
The truth is that I completely forgot; what with the excitement of the weekend and the various other commitments, to press the publish button - how embarrassing! So, thankfully, I'd only contacted Lorna in advance and I must say many, many thanks for informing me of my gaffe; anyone who's interested in reading it can do so here...
Just this morning I received a comment from George which in turn led me to check out the links on the published post; after all I'd already made one gaffe and I didn't fancy discovering that I'd made another. The first link I tried was Lorna which took me through to her lovely blog and yesterday's post about tartan, which included this lovely picture of a tartan corset...
While I'm sure you'll all agree it is quite out of the ordinary; no doubt most of us have visions of whalebone's and a maids foot in the small of the back or indeed pictures of lace and ribbons. This peice may not be for every day wear; but it certainly is different and worn with the right choice of accessories could be absolutely stunning for a formal occasion. If only I had the figure...
This reminds me; the other day I came across a fine example of MacKenzie tartan, which of course Lorna's post reminded me of. This is one of only two items over the past forty odd years and sadly I didn't have my wallet on me at the time and now I can't remember where I saw it! It was a lovely angora scarf which of course would have gone beautifully with pretty much any coat in my wardrobe; drat!
Lorna'a post got me wondering about the lovely highland clan tartan hanging in my wardrobe. Originally made for my grandmother; it was passed down to me some twenty-five years or so ago, and has been worn only occasionally. Unlike most 'Kilts' this is the real McCoy, constructed in the traditional way for a gentleman rather than the longer skirts usually sold as kilts to the unsuspecting female.
As a result of my researching the internet I have found a few examples of this lovely tartan, many of which were not shown in a complimentary light due to printing discrepancies. I did however find a traditional Kilt manufacturer who has many fine examples of this unusual colour scheme. I also discovered that my brooch, the lesser of three, being rather plain and dowdy by comparison is the pewter coloured one with a stags head in the centre which is apparently the MacKenzie Seaforth Highlanders regimental crest.
Of course all of this now has me wondering about my right; as the descendent of a MacKenzie, to wear the afore said tartan. Already this morning I have trawled through the Clan Website looking for fine examples of this tartan. What I discovered is that the tartan I have is the modern version; as worn by the Seaforth Regiment, and that there are a number of different variations on the theme.
I suspect that if any, I should be sporting the muted colours of the hunting tartan as opposed the Seaforth; after all it was my great-grandmother who bore the name. That is until she married a gentleman called Smith from Yorkshire, much to her parents disgust...
Polly Pierce
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