Joggly bits…

So, at lunch, I was talking to a male friend about men wearing skirts. He said it was a good idea because in the extreme heat, wearing trousers, can be hot, confining and lead to ball shrinkage. Okay, he didn’t say ball shrinkage but something along the lines of joggly bits and pieces getting all hot and bothered but not in a good way. That got us talking about kilts. He thought this was a good solution. Yes, but when kilts were actually in their hey-day, when people like my Scottish ancestors were running amok around the Highlands (Wick, Caithness) they didn’t wear undies. He didn’t see this is a concern as men, as you know, are happy to go naked and let things hang out. I then said ‘yeah but what about going into battle, running over hills and rocks, and fighting knowing your joggly bits are indeed joggling all over the place and not contained by undies?' Yes, this would present a problem. Solution? Possibly wear a kilt but don’t run or jump in it. If you get into a fight while wearing one? Maybe have a five minute cease fire to put undies on then fight.    

Never trust a Campbell...

So, today I was doing some research for a story, at the day job – yes, I expect I will feel terrible about it at some stage - about something my mother told me years ago when I was a kid. My mother, the daughter of a full blooded Scot from Wick, Caithness in the Scottish Highlands, told me you can ‘never trust a Campbell.’ Why?

On 1 February 1692, two companies of red-coated government soldiers (about 120 men, of whom only around a dozen were Campbells) were sent to Glen Coe. The commander of the government forces sent to Glen Coe was Captain Robert Campbell. He was 60 years old and through drink, bad decisions and loss of property arising from the Atholl Raid seven years earlier, had been forced to take up a commission in the army. He was, however, welcomed to the glen and he and his soldiers were sheltered and fed amongst the various cottages in the area. He was well-known to the MacIans and was related through marriage. But his orders arrived and at 5 a.m. on the morning of 13 February, he and his redcoats set about carrying out their orders. Whether due to incompetence or some of the soldiers not being enthusiastic for the task, "only" 38 men, women and children out of the 200 of the clan were killed (though others perished later on the snow-swept hills as they tried to escape). Some were shot in the back and the rings from the hand of chief's wife were hacked off - she died soon after. While the chief was also amongst the dead, his two sons escaped, possibly helped by the late arrival, due to a blizzard, of an additional force of redcoats, which should have blocked the entrance to the glen.

http://www.rampantscotland.com/features/glencoe.htm

My Grandfather’s kin always passed down the "never trust a Campbell" thing to each generation and none forgot it. 

I may only be a quarter Scot but it’s something I've always remembered and I often have found myself assessing those named Campbell. Yeah, maybe it’s crazy or maybe it’s all to do with ancient bloodlines and inherent beliefs that somehow are ingrained in our souls that I believe make us who we are today in our current form.

The story I’m writing? It has a Campbell in it. The question is, she be trusted?