I just spent three hours looking at prom dresses on the internet. A new friend has invited me a black-tie ceilidh dinner dance next Friday night (as–get this–a direct response to my talking about how I tend to fancy Scottish ginger men).
I'm too scared to wear tartan. I can foresee a situation where I'm at this dance and someone legitimately recognizes my £60 internet buy as their family tartan. Potentially mortifying. I think I'm opting for burgundy velvet.
Please stay tuned for updates on this thrilling top news story.
Speaking of Highland clan politics, I was reminded this week about something my dad taught me and my brother growing up. I still hear him say it every once in a while...