Tomorrow I am going to a christening. Not the sort of christening one sometimes finds oneself attending that one could characterise as a "duty" christening by which I mean an event one is only attending out of a perceived duty to be there. Not at all, in fact this is the christening of the little boy of some very good friends and I am very much looking forward to it. I will not however be doing what I normally do on such occasions - wearing Highland Dress. Usually I will jump at any excuse to get out of my trousers and into a kilt and strut about in all that metalwork and weaponry, but not tomorrow.
I had intended to wear it, my Highland kit is at this moment all looked out and ready, hanging up in a doorway ready for action; brogues shining, sporran neatly brushed, belt buckle and sporran chain all shiny and jingly, dirk and sgian dhu bright and deadly, balmoral all ready to be cocked at a suitably jaunty angle. I won't be putting it on though and its taken me a day or two to work out why. Its not, as some might think, embarrassment at something many see as so over the top or any of the other straightforward reasons that might put off potential kilt wearers. I've been wearing this stuff or around others wearing it since primary school, it feels very normal for me and I bemoan the lack of opportunity to don it now that I live in the Deep South of England. The fact is that to wear the kilt, and to be the only one doing so, I have to be feeling good about myself - and right now I don't. Certain native american tribes have a phrase for great grief: "my heart is on the ground", it is a truly expressive phrase for the physical pain in the chest and solar plexus that grief brings. Anyone who has felt it will recognise the description. Well my heart is on the ground and its been there a long time. So I wont be wearing my gaudy finery this weekend. I'll be paying very sincere respect to young Luca and his family but I'll be doing it in a quiet, anonymous dark suit.
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