Commentary

Along the Scottish trail

August 13, 2026   ·   0 Comments

By Constance Scrafield

The kids in the breakfast room were great. About twenty of them. There was every age from one to six, maybe. Boys for the most part, they were energetic and excited for the day of whatever their parents had planned. They all knew some of it and exchanged commentary in a tremendous babble, each quoting his or her own authority, with the sincere confidence of one who has done his research.

One mother said that her husband was dashing from Orangeville to where we were in Peterborough to take their children go-karting, and laughed at the coincidence of meeting the Citizen in such an out-of-the-way place.

Consistent was the talk about the hotel swimming pool, where they would surely end their day as they had the evening before, in a rampage of towels and parents attempting to bring that day to an end, while leaving the floor adorned in pools of dripping tiny feet, fleeting moments of “happiness is.”

We were making a stopover at the hotel on our way to a village called Maxville, where the Glengarry Highland Games are set annually on the first of August. Sometimes the largest Highland Games in the world, in the number of pipe and drums playing in the main field, there were over 1,400 playing “Amazing Grace” this year.

The following weekend, with two days to recover from the first and be ready for the second, saw us and our trailer wheeling into the preparations on site for the Fergus Highland Games last weekend. Months of preparing for this double demand had seen to it that we were ready: our jewellery polished and many pieces already set on our display, only waiting to be placed strategically on the tables. Those had to be hauled out of the trailer, set up and adorned with the appropriately designed Celtic cloths.

We raised our sign to direct all who wished to visit Celtic Fair, selling sterling silver jewellery. Patricia’s post was at the cash and her particular corner where she could talk to customers about special orders and her other jewellery services.

People did wish to come and visit us, and our co-worker, Jennifer and I made a dance of it. Celtic jewellery is more than simply that. Each piece carries a story or a bit of history about the Celts, whose strengths and history date back thousands of years. We rightly think of them as largely living in the British Isles, but there were Celts living across ancient Europe, even into Germany.

Some of their designs, dating back thousands of years, are as modern as today and as elegant as any designer could wish for.

Jennifer and I told the stories and explained the curious patterns in the metal, passing the telling between us, in exchanges with our customers at once full of fun and wonder. A large number of people, we are happy to say, are regulars who regard their visits to our tent as a part of their pleasure in coming to the festivals. A joy that is also a responsibility to be sure, as every vendor must, to know that our quality standards must be kept.

We were far from being the only ones with stories and information at such festivals. Others bring research into family names or can reproduce images of ancient family crests. They can explore families’ histories and dig into tales that might relate to their decedents.

Naturally, food sold at such affairs reflects the common theme and, somehow, the varied reaction to a meal like haggis is enthusiastically received by some who know it and not so much to others when they learn a bit about the recipe.

The food trucks serve meat pies as good as you will ever eat and fish and chips to perfection. Other nations join the food category with equally fine fare, and this brings more welcome to one and all.

Most of these Scottish festivals invite those farmers to raise their Highland cattle for a memory of the pastures far away.

The Highland Games see many hundreds of people attend and, as such, are an enormous amount of work. Like festivals of every ilk, they are run essentially by volunteers and could not exist without them.

For those of us who attend, it is likewise a huge job to be ready and a considerable expense to be there in full vigour, as one might say, throwing our trust and respect into the event.

Such cultural events are a tremendous boon to the historical security of many people living particularly in this region, to which so many British and Irish people came during the litany of hardships they suffered, and as an adventure to see what the “new world” might hold for them. Inevitably, they brought their culture with them, which echoes the depths of who they are and remain.

It is a grand thing, then, for the pipes to play and the sticks to drum to recall, in such an excellent way, the tines of their ancient roots.

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