The most memorable part of our recent trip to Europe might be surprising.
It wasn’t the Tower of London where several folks lost their heads – one I understand took 7 – 8 hacks by the beheader to finish the job. OUCH. Actually, beheading on the public square would be a strong crime deterrent in my opinion. See that a couple of times as a kid and you might think twice before spray painting graffiti on the I-440 beltline overpass.
It wasn’t our food tour of Burrough Market – which was actually REALLY interesting and REALLY good. I’m not a huge fried fish fan, but these frizzled creatures of the deep were quite tasty. And, we went to a pub at noon which is frowned upon on typical weekdays at my office.
It wasn’t the cool suede jacket I purchased for thirty-five pounds (see pic) at Armstrong’s Vintage Clothing. They have some great thrift stores in Scotland! The girls always think that there has been some incredible debauchery in the used clothing I purchase. Certainly, a murder or theft occurred in the jacket pictured above. If so, the wear will lead a far less interesting life on my back than it did in its previous life. More meetings in conference rooms than exciting drug runs from this day forward.
No, the most memorable event of our trip occurred on our last day in Scotland. We were killing time before our flight took off popping into shops on Bruntsfield Place when we entered the Biscuit Clothing Store. It’s a women’s store with upper end outfits, new ones, not ones that have not been previously worn by thieves.
They recognized my wife, she had been in earlier that week.
Two ladies, approximately my age, were at the counter. They shouted out in a most enthusiastic way, with their beautiful Scottish accents, “It’s our friends from Roleigh.” One of the women had fiery red hair. My guess it has touches of gray based on her age, but none was apparent. She was of average size, perhaps a bit plump, with a long, full vertically pleated skirt that nearly drug the floor. The fabric was bright with large pink and red flowers. Her lavender silk blouse was the perfect match. Glasses on a chain hung down her front and additional skin gave heft to her neck. I imagined she could have been a lady-in-waiting for the Queen before this job – she appeared extremely proper.
After a bit of fashion grazing, I noticed Fergie, the singer/rapper, was being piped in over the speaker in the store. Her song, Glamorous, gave us all a pep in our step.
Our Scottish friend in her colorful garb was restocking clothes that had been rejected by previous customers and as she made her way through the store with several hangers of dresses, she began to sing along with the music.
Her voice was operatic, like the woman who sings O Holy Night at a typical Christmas Eve service back home.
Now imagine, Julie, DJ, Michelle and me – tired from a week’s trip and dreading the hours long flight back home. Punchy… ready for our own space and quiet… and this woman with a Beverly Sills like voice, boldly breaking out along with Fergie’s beat…
G- L- A- M- O- R- OUS
I can put you in First Class, up in the sky, First class up in…
If you don’t know the song, I encourage it. It’s a spirit lifter for sure.
We were all spread out throughout the store and each of us absolutely lost it – on the floor about to wet our pants from laughter. We each quickly made our way to the door and regained our composure on the sidewalk outside of The Biscuit.
We all knew the next line of Fergie’s famous song was a rap:
If you ain’t got no money take yo’ broke ass home.
Had we stayed, and had she continued, there would have been no hope. We would have embarrassed ourselves and her.
It is amazing how you can spend thousands of dollars and schedule endless activities, and the most incredible experience of the entire week took no planning and cost nothing. Just people you love surrounding you and a watchful eye on those passing by.
What a great adventure we had. And, after all of that, my broke ass is indeed back home.
The Real Fuller House 
Dawn M. Miller
/ April 5, 2023Sounds perfect.