I was piping a wedding yesterday, when a little old lady came up to me. She was a Polish Jew, who's family had escaped just ahead of the Nazi's and were resettled in Scotland. As a young girl she suddenly found herself in a strange land, speaking no English, knowing no one and without a penny to their names. With tears in her eyes she told how despite rationing, the Scottish people took her family in and fed and clothed them, without question, hesitation, or asking anything in return. She tells this story to her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, with the admonition to remember and re-tell it to theirs after she's gone, that her family will always remember the Scottish people with profound gratitude.