p|d begins exclusive Livingstone book excerpts

third trip to this storied event; I had only come back to piping in 1969, after a 10-year absence.

On the Thursday the competitions for the Highland Society of London’s Gold Medal for Piobaireachd were held. The Gold Medal was judged by Seumas MacNeill, Capt. John MacLellan and Maj. Gen. Frank Richardson. I was awarded second prize, behind Jimmy MacGregor, who at last had his Gold Medal, finally knocking it off in his 50s.

The March competition was held on the same day, and, playing “Bonnie Ann” for a bench composed of David Murray, John MacFadyen and Ian Cameron, I was awarded first prize.

What an amazing day for me, a Canadian piper, the son of a coal miner from Ayrshire. Not much remains of my memories of that evening, but for certain there was some cheer enjoyed by my wife Lillian, and my dad, Bill senior, in the local pubs of Inverness. My mother, Mildred, had died in 1972 and sadly missed the piping rollercoaster that I had climbed aboard.

In 1974, the piping events were divided between the Caledonian Hotel ballroom and the Doctor Black Memorial Halls. The Caley ballroom was a fairly cavernous place, with rows of folding metal chairs designed to test the padding of the most capacious posterior. The Doctor Black Hall was much smaller and more intimate, so much so that the audience always seemed to encroach on the piper’s private, or at least performing, space. So it seemed to this piper, who has always been something of a tense performer. The Doctor Black Hall also featured a grand piano, which had a most disconcerting habit of resonating a discordant hum of overtones from one or more of its strings when the powerhouse notes of the chanter – low-G, B, and D – were sounded.

Awakening on Friday, September 13, I felt energized, confident and strode purposefully to the Caley for the Strathspey & Reel event. The bizarre events I am about to describe took place as I entered the ballroom from the back. I was about to make my way up to the stage when I was confronted by Maj. Gen. Frank Richardson, who said in his English public school accent that he’d “like a word with me.” I have learned over time that when someone from the United Kingdom uses that expression, what usually follows is less than pleasant . . .

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