You May See a Stranger

See Part 1: Some Enchanted Evening here

There were many ovations for him that night. Once I tried to stand up and join in but didn't trust my knees so I remained seated as he bowed, slowly, graciously in his gorgeous jabotty shirt with its lace bottomed sleeves and his well turned ankles in their kneesocks with little tassles that matched his clan dress tartan kilt and shiney patenty silver-buckled shoes...l'd better stop already with the adjectives, it's all a bit too much for my aging heart.

Anyway, he eventually marched down off the stage and walked over to the table yet again and taking my right hand in both of his proceeded to escort me backstage from the theatre.

I'm very well brought up so I managed to stammer: “I must dance with those who brung me!”
So he gallantly went back, me in tow and bowed to my couple friends and invited them to join us – “for a wee dhram!”

They, of course, were over the moon at this turn of events, being in the Great Man's dressing room sipping on some priceless ancient Scottish malt. I kept looking at them with a cocked eyebrow and at one point, as he changed in the small adjoining bathroom I said:

“Gawd, guys, when you take a girl out, you attend to her every, and I mean every, need!” Loosened by the second wee dhram, we dissolved into gales of laughter.

After about a half hour of interesting chit-chat (the female of the couple was a Mackintosh devotee out of the Glasgow School of Art), he politely said to my friends:

“Ach ye'll ken this, but I need to be alone with mae wee lassie nae.”

His wee lassie.

Wee!

Alone!