My journey up the driveway of Prestonfield House involved admiring highland cattle and dodging coaches. At the foot of Arthur’s Seat, this beautiful house is a five star hotel and, as we were directed into the Stables venue, it became clear that we were to be looked after very well indeed.
Within moments of sitting down at the long, velvet-laden tables, we were offered red or white wine, vegetable soup or venison pate. As we proceeded into the main course of fish pie or roast beef, a projector on the stage at the front of the room began showing a montage of video clips – shots of the Highlands, processions of bagpipes, men on windy hillsides atop wild and woolly horses, the list goes on.
The projector screen rolled up and a band consisting of a drummer and keyboard player was revealed behind it. These musicians provided backing for a whole host of other performers, including Kenny McGinty, whose accordion tribute to The Flying Scotsman was particularly popular. John Rae was in fine fettle on the bagpipes and vocals from ‘Scotland’s Three Tenors’ and Brigid Mhairi were never anything short of tuneful and passionate.
The Prestonfield Dancers, along with their pint sized partners The Wee Highlanders, provided healthy amounts of tartan and sequins to the evening, along with plenty of whooping and whirling. I particularly enjoyed a routine performed by the young male Prestonfield Dancer. As he strode on stage in a natty pair of tartan trousers, our host Cailean McLean explained how the British government banned the kilt in 1747. The dance we were about to see was a celebration of the liberation of legs when the Scots were once again allowed to wear their kilts, thirty five years later.
Pudding came in the form of a raspberry mousse cranachan and the programme of entertainment rolled on. An interval was announced and as if by magic a haggis appeared on stage. Our host recited Burns’ ‘Address to the Haggis’ whilst breaking up the ‘wee beastie’, first with a knife and then with his bare hands. The display was gleefully gruesome and may have put some guests off the following portion of haggis, neeps and tatties we were given, but not I. It was delicious.
The evening was unfalteringly jubilant. Tourists from all over the world had come to be immersed in Scottish culture and were certainly getting plenty of tartan for their ticket price. It was genuinely cheering to hear our hosts welcoming groups from Uruguay, Taiwan, Iran, Brazil and many many more, and then inviting them onto the dance floor to partake in a spot of ceilidh dancing with the Prestonfield troupe.
Good cheer was topped up with good whisky and the entertainment on stage reached a pitch with finales of ‘Land of my Heart Forever’, ‘Haste ye Back’ and ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ At times the evening felt a bit like Braveheart’s entry to the Eurovision Song Contest, but it was entirely impossible not to enjoy. The food was lovely, as was the atmosphere. The team on stage, behind the scenes and in the kitchen worked their socks off to celebrate Scotland and help us do the same.
