That's right freaking me out now.
Angry at being banished from the Moot House, the Piper is outside skirling away in the gloaming. Well, not so much the gloaming. But there's a fair amount of light from the full moon when the clouds aren't sweeping past.
He's up there, silhouetted against the moon, blaring out the Fair Lass o'Gowrie or some such Scottishness. He's apparently done this thinking he'll put us off our Midnight Full Moon Festival. Well, he's wrong.
He's forgotten about BST. We're not gonna be out there for another hour yet. Let's see what his stamina is like.
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