So there I was mostly asleep in my childhood home. Warren is unconcious next to me. The phone rings. I think this is odd. I think it is even more odd when I glance over at my watch and discover that it is 7:30 am. Who would be calling at this hour? I know that my parents aren't home. They had to get to the games at 7:15 this year because Dad is president of the British War Veterans, and they need to set up the tent. Perhaps they got stuck in traffic and someone is wondering where they are? Whatever, I am not awake enough to deal. The phone rings again about 20 minutes later. What the heck? I consider answering, but not fast enough to actually do so. Then at 8:30 I hear my parent's truck pull into the driveway!!!
It turns out that the games had been cancelled. Due to rain. Sure, it was grey and drizzling, but that seemed a bit extreme. We've been going to these games since 1976, and in the past 30 years they have never, ever been cancelled due to rain before. One year when Margaret and I were dancing it poured and poured and poured, and they moved the dancing to a nearby school. We were miffed that we were segregated from all the other cool events (no caber toss watching!), but everything was still on. In fact, back when Margaret and I were dancing we spent at least half the weekends in the summer (and some in spring and fall too) at various games, and never once had any been called on account of rain. There were heavy downpours with thunder and lightening at Grandfather Mountain, and all it caused was a brief pause in the dancing. Seriously. And its a Scottish Games. Newsflash: It rains a lot in Scotland.
According to my parents the official story was that they were concerned about some thunderstorms that were forcast for that afternoon. Now, I can kind of see that, but at the same time, people drive from Canada for this event. I know there's at least one vendor from Boston who goes every year, not to mention dozens from New Jersy and Pennsylvania. I imagine they are quite miffed at having driven a truck full of merchandise that far for an event that was cancelled at the last minute.
Of course the kicker was that Saturday turned out to be perfect weather. The light drizzle of the morning had mostly stopped by 8:30, and the thunder never materialized. It was a cool day with a heavy overcast, just the type of weather you would want if you were planning on dancing in 5+ pounds of wool.
The actual rain came on Sunday for our drive home. It was wet. It took a fair bit longer than usual. When we finally got close we decided to stop for dinner before going home. Leaving Royal East the windshield wipers on my car finally gave up and quit working. Oops. Warren drove the last little way very, very carefully. I called the dealer this morning and they won't let me bring it in before Thursday. I am miffed. Usually if its something pressing I can bring it in the same day. Sure, non-functional windshield wipers aren't a pressing issue in California, but they are in New England.