And now, more than a month late, I present this account from my journal:

Three years after my first St. Patrick’s Day with [the band], I observed it with the band again, this time having no reason not to. Didn’t want to cop out in the face of such a personnel shortage, & it turned out [my brother] was flying that night anyway, so he didn’t have his traditional dinner to serve then. [Our head piper, not currently "major"] had asked us to wear collared white (not dress) shirts, preferably embroidered with our logo, available at a local firm. [My sainted mother] & I began an evening by checking out likely stores, not finding what I needed till we tried Wal-Mart & got a $3.00 henley--which cost $7.00 to customize.

The occasion happened to fall on a Friday. [Our boss] kept me on one drone. Fortunately a bass drummer from Fort Frances had joined us for the evening. Unlike my previous experience, we drove around to venues in different parts of town, starting with the hospital. I don’t want to bother with too many details, but the second place we went was the Catholic church, having been invited on short notice to perform in the hall we’d visited before, now given over to a Lenten Friday fish fry. One of my HS class officers, who’s helped oversee our reunions & is probably best known for the combined county office she holds, showed up behind the counter for me to surprise her [with my status as piper!]. Decent free dinner. Later, at a popular west-side restaurant, we marched through the kitchen on the way out.

Our schedule called for two sessions at each of two Irish pubs downtown, including our “favorite.” The other place was very nearly across the street & had a little stage at the back. This seemed to concentrate sound in our unfortunate ears, but we eventually got word that our music wasn’t carrying well to the front! Back up the block at our preferred pool table [where the band plays here], I eventually pulled off an unexpected move when young Mr. Hotshot, playing his own tunes solo, included “The Battle of Waterloo,” which I’d unintentionally introduced him to by working on it from a copied score I’d acquired in a mixed bundle last(?) year; I felt like joining in, & not all could immediately tell where my noise came from. Returning to the other pub, we found ourselves waiting for the stage, while our resourceful re-enactor insinuated himself into the band then occupying it--& danced with a goofy woman who showed herself something of a pest afterwards, getting up whenever music played & grooving to it by herself--& invading our space, even onstage. Being led off didn’t end it, but we finally did by marching out the back door.

Instead of hitting the other hangout again, we drove off to the Curling Club, where some important bonspiel was reportedly on. We played in the lounge area, got free drinks & saw the ice shut down. [Our leader] asked me if I’d mind “The Battle of Waterloo” in our repertory (of course not). Seems I’ve started something!

We did get our corned beef from [brother]Bill another day.