At The Independence March

Cacophony of pipers, flags and guid Scots conversation. Face-painted Saltires, kilty bare-bums and auld acquaintance fondly remembered. The tribes had gathered and Scottish Nationalists of various political shadings were on the march perhaps toward a truly heroic destiny. Let’s hope so.

I’m not wearing this flag in my lapel for nothing, you know..!

The march itself was a very Edinburgh affair; quiet and polite and don’t disturb the neighbours, it’s only the pipers up front that were making any sort of noise. This changed when we congregated in Princes Gardens in front of the bandstand. Some bright and admittedly brave souls (possibly supporters of a team recently entered in SFL Div 3, who knows?) had draped Union Jacks among the trees and on the grass in the upper reaches of the gardens next to the railings. Defiantly, many of us Scottish patriots taunted and teased them but they stared back at us cold-eyed and disdainful. Some argued with police about by-laws and park regulations but police remained unimpressed (it has often been alleged in this country of ours that police may have a partiality for Union Jacks themselves. Surely not, though, it couldn’t possibly be the case..!).

The day belonged though to one plucky Scottish hero who took the law and the cause into his own hands. He burst through the flower beds and rushed the offending flags while their defenders attention was diverted. He tore them off the trees and proceeded to run off with them bundled in his arms. He was quickly apprehended and hauled to the ground by a startled unionist and both of them were cuffed and taken away by the previously complacent police.

The roars of ‘hero! hero!’ from the delighted crowd however, were for only one of them.