magic kilt

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Walking along a crowded platform on Paddington station, suddenly an arm wrapped around a shoulder and a Scottish accent welcomed me. My friend had seen my Royal Stewart tartan through the crowds and recognised my gait. How lovely that the kilt could help bring us together in this otherwise unfriendly milieu.

Later, standing on a tube train, a stranger smiled at me and invited me to take an empty seat they had rights to by proximity. This has never happened before during my London commutes. Later again, a young man invited me to pass in front of him to leave the train rather than taking my natural place in the rambling crush.

I love all 9 yards of my kilt, it helps people see me.

It inspires kindness from strangers.

It’s magic.

6 bits of lovely banter on “magic kilt”

  1. B-u-x writes:

    great way to look at it! I want me a magic kilt…I’m just not sure I’m as braveheart as you Wendy.

    Loved this post!




  2. wendy writes:

    Thanks Bux! I’ve had so many positive experiences when wearing my kilt . It was a bargain purchase That I’m thinking of investing in another one….



    B-u-x writes

    oh my gosh…now that really was a bargain!



  3. James Sutherland writes:

    Despite my (very Scottish!) name, I’ve never been fond of the kilt … having quite a nasty wool allergy is a factor in that, of course.

    The kilt was compulsory at school for Sunday chapel services and end of term events, which I hated. I wish I could have found a wool-free kilt to wear!



  4. Pat writes:

    I haven’t worn mine (ancient Mackay and every day) for yonks – in fact they are up in the attic. I think I might get them down and give them a whirl.



  5. Kay G. writes:

    Kilt = Kin




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