Last week I wrote that on Sunday afternoon my wife and I were to attend a small out door get-together with all the neighbors (first Sunday in Advent) and that I was anxious – after having for the first time been talking to our neighbor next door when in a kilt - to see if something about my kilt wearing should be said by then.

There was. My neighbor, who is a very good looking lady and about 25 years younger than I had not by one word said anything about it. Yesterday she came up to me:
“Greg, I must ask you about your kilt. Have you some Scottish ancestors or have you just been in Scotland?”
I answered her that I had no Scottish roots, but that, yes, I had been visiting Scotland and liked it very much and that I had bought my kilts over the Internet.
Another neighbor standing close must have intercepted something of our conversation.
“What, a KILT?”
“Yes”, my neighbor said. “A couple of days ago when I was about to leave, I met Greg outside and he was in a kilt and he looked absolutely gorgeous in it”.

“You in a kilt. You mean bare legs?” the other said, mouth and eyes wide open, but interested.

I confirmed it.

“O, but THAT is something. Respect.” It looked as was she really impressed.
When we got home I told my wife that my kilt wearing had been subject for talking. “O no!” was her first reaction but having heard what was said she looked rather impressed, too.

Greg