Highland Fling, or Midland Mosh-pit?

Saturday was, as mentioned in my previous post, the day of the Forres Highland Games.
While a bit slow on the casualty front, it was relatively good.
It hosted the usual stalls and public activities which fundays can only have, and myself and Caitlind bagged an offer of a pint at the forthcoming Speyfest from a friendly security guard with a sore knee, who we had met at last year's Fochabers event.
Personally, I hold him to that promise (of course I'll change out of the old RC uniform first. Either that or cover up the emblems).
Anyhoo, apart from the odd first aid response, we made do with highland dancing, pipe bands, and traditional Scottish games, including that whole "lets throw a log and see how far it goes, before we run out of the way to avoid being squashed by it as it hits the ground" game. Seriously, who thought that up? I know its tradition now, but really, the man must have been bored witless... or had been hit witless on the head with the same log he took inspiration from to design the game.

Meanwhile, down South in the midst of the Scottish lowlands...

...There was a lot of music going on. At least that's what I can gather from the T.V coverage.
Yes, I'm still sour for not being let loose on T in the Park.
It would have been like Rockness, only with a thousand more people, and bigger, better, more hardcore bands.
Kings of Leon were playing there, for crying out loud!
And the Killers... James Morrison... Lady GaGa... and Snow Patrol! I missed the amazing sight of Snow Patrol and KOL live! What did I do to deserve this punishment?! Apart from being born a year later than I should have been.

Saying that, if I had been a 1990s child, would I have ever ended up in the Red Cross in the first place?
And therefore, would I be the person I am now?
And therefore... would this blog even exist?
Ok, too deep.