Gatherings of All Types
September 6, 2026
This was an unusual week. I had only one event on my calendar — something I’d been planning for months — and nothing else scheduled. Yet the days filled themselves, and by the end of the week my impressions of each gathering were quite different from what I expected at the beginning.
One morning I needed to go downtown to take care of my phone bill, so I decided to
have lunch at a new coffee café, Five Loaves. The owner is a Glasgow‑born Australian whose Scottish roots eventually pulled him back home. After years in elite catering in Sydney, he returned to Aberdeen looking for a business that could both serve the community and introduce people to Christ. For every third food item sold, the café donates to the local food bank, and any surplus food goes to those in need. A striking mural by a local tattoo artist covers one wall — unexpected and wonderful.
I was sitting alone waiting for my order when another older woman came in and sat by herself. It seemed silly for the two of us to eat separately, so I asked if she’d mind if I joined her. She hesitated — probably wondering what I was selling — but agreed. We talked for almost an hour, never exchanging names, simply enjoying the moment. It was delightful.
I enjoyed myself so much that time slipped away. I had planned to attend an event at my church that afternoon and ended up late catching the bus.
On the first Tuesday of every month (except during summer), my church hosts Tea and Talk. I assumed there would be casual fellowship before the speaker began. I was wrong — the speaker started promptly at 14:00 (2:00). I arrived late and tried to slip in quietly.
The speaker was James “Barney” Crockett, former Lord Provost of Aberdeen. For those unfamiliar with the title (as I was), the Provost is essentially the mayor, elected by the city council rather than directly by the people. The Lord‑Lieutenant, meanwhile, represents the monarch in the city.
Mr. Crockett was a gifted storyteller. He had met many famous people — Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, and Andrew, the former prince. Because of Aberdeen’s oil connections, he had visited Houston. He told a story about meeting an extremely wealthy Houston woman who took him to her ranch, where he overheard her threatening to shoot two undocumented workers arguing about wages. He was stunned.
After the speech, I approached him and said how much I enjoyed his talk. Then I introduced myself as Beverly Clyde from Houston, Texas. He stepped back a couple of paces. I quickly assured him that yes, some Houston women are indeed very wealthy — and that he was in Texas, so of course she had guns. She wouldn’t have shot to kill; Texas does have laws against murder. She probably wouldn’t have shot to injure either — just to scare. We both laughed at the absurdity of it all. It was a good day: delightful conversations and marvelous stories.
The next day, a friend from church invited me to join her, her son, and their dog on a short trip to a nearby town. There I had a quintessentially Scottish experience: sitting in a heavy mist beside the harbor, eating a fish supper (not dinner), watching a retriever swim in the gray water. I’m not sure I can imagine anything more Scottish than sitting in the rain, eating fish and chips, and talking with good friends. It was wonderful.
But the event I had circled — metaphorically — was September 5th: the Braemar Gathering. It took me a while to use the correct name; I kept calling it the Braemar Highland Games, sometimes adding “Royal” because members of the royal family usually attend.
I caught the bus to Braemar and eventually found the Gathering's grounds. I had purchased a ticket months earlier and had a reserved seat. After some misdirection, I found it — fourth row, end seat. I thought the end would be convenient, but instead people had to crawl over me to get out. And the fourth row meant my view was often blocked.
The games felt like a three‑ring circus. The hammer throw was on the right, the tug‑of‑war in the center, Highland dancers on the left, and runners circling the infield — unless the pipe and drum bands were marching through. It was lively, confusing, and overwhelming.
If you ever wish to see bagpipe and drummers or people in kilts, go to a Highland Gathering. Highland games are held throughout the summer throughout Scotland.
Still, I enjoyed many events. The hill run, dating back to ancient clan traditions, was fascinating. The fastest runner would once have been the clan chief’s messenger. The Braemar hill run is about three miles and takes most runners 25–30 minutes. We cheered at the start and again when the majority returned. The slower runners finished outside the grounds because the gates were closed — odd, but practical.
There was an all‑day military competition in tug‑of‑war and racing. The 1RLC kept
winning tug‑of‑war. I puzzled over the initials — I knew the R probably stood for Royal — and finally learned it was the First Royal Logistics Corps. By then I had adopted them as “my” group.
And of course, the caber toss. The Braemar caber is 19 feet 9 inches long and weighs 133 pounds. Cabers must fall within certain measurements to be considered true cabers. They are tapered and thrown large‑end up, making them difficult to balance. Ten to twelve competitors attempted the toss. Two Americans
participated — one from Austin and one from Washington state — and their performance was, frankly, disappointing. Only one man managed a proper flip, and he was from Poland. He earned the chance to toss the larger Braemar caber (21 feet, 141 pounds), but even with three attempts he couldn’t make it fall away from him.
At 15:00 (3:00), King Charles and Queen Camilla arrived. People had been anticipating this moment. They entered the royal box — a building with large open doors so spectators could see them. From my seat, I could only see their legs once they sat down. The massed pipe and drum bands marched past, the national anthem was sung, and the games continued. Around 15:45 (3:45), the King awarded prizes, especially to the military groups, including “my” 1RLC. At 16:00 (4:09), the monarchs departed, led by the pipe and drum bands.
After they left, most spectators began to trickle out. The games continued for another
hour, but it had been a long day, so I left too. As I walked back into town, I realized I hadn’t paid enough attention to where the bus stop was. Buses weren’t allowed to stop in the center of town that day, and I couldn’t remember the alternate location. The police didn’t know either. I remembered a bar that many passengers had visited when we arrived, so I tried to find it, thinking the bus stop would be nearby. After several sets of directions, I found the bar — but no bus stop. Tired and discouraged, I whispered a quick “God help.” As I stood there, I spotted the bus itself. Thank you, God. I never would have found the stop otherwise.
When I look back on my time in Scotland, I suspect I’ll remember my conversation with the former Lord Provost about Houston women, my hour‑long chat with a woman whose name I never learned, and eating a fish supper in the rain with a friend far more vividly than the Braemar Gathering. I enjoyed the Gathering, but I was only an observer. In the other three moments, I was personally involved — and that’s what matters most.
Aberdeen Weather – Cloudy and Windy
High 61 F (16 C), Low 55 F (13 C)
Sunrise: 6:20 Sunset: 7:51 (19:51)
Hours of Day Light: 13 hours and 31 minutes
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