As we were leaving the theatre in Jerash, Gilleasbuig said he could hear the bagpipes, so we went back to investigate. At first I though there must have been something in the onions at breakfast, but sure enough, there in the amphitheatre, bashing out Scotland the Brave for all he was worth was a bagpiper in Jordanian national dress, accompanied by a side drummer and a snare drummer. I went and had a chat to them. They had learned the instruments in the army, and had even played at the Edinburgh Military Tattoo. The pipes only had one drone, and the chanter was somewhat out of key, but the enthusiasm with which they belted out Bonnie Dundee, The Black Bear, Amazing Grace, and several tunes which I had never heard (or was it just their arrangement?) made this an occasion never to forget. I tipped them generously, as a former busker myself, and they rewarded me with a salute and another stirring rendition of Scotland the Brave. It was enough to bring a tear to a glass eye. Pass the shortbread please.
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