The day after Founder’s Day, with the leavers groggy from a night on the town, the Fettes College Pipe Band confronted Griselda, front of house at the Icelandair desk at Glasgow airport. Thirty pipers and drummers, six staff and a hundred items of baggage. It was an uneven contest, and within 30 minutes she had us licked, ticketed and near enough boarded.

It had taken 12 months to come to this. Away back at the start of the academic year the Pipe Band parents had gathered for drinks at dusk to hear plans for a US tour. Ideas flowed, committees convened and fund-raising events emerged. The pipers and drummers staged a 24-hour marathon over the Commemoration weekend. The parents put together a Spring Ceilidh in February that was such fun that we aim to hold another this year. The ladies, led by Sue Buchan, lunched for Fettes, throwing out invitations to friends to dine from Caracas to Cowdenbeath in the great Fettes Global Lunch. Individuals and organisations contributed too, both publicly and anonymously. Special thanks go to the Old Fettesian Association, Friends of Fettes College Inc. and The Royal Caledonian Schools Trust.

After a hop-over in Keflavik, we landed in Boston to find Andrew Murray looping the loop outside Logan in the command vehicle. It was a tad unfair to ask Andrew to pick up the van on his first visit to the States but it was a great welcome to the freeway at its most contorted. That fine Scots-owned company, Coach USA, was on hand to whisk us southward to Bristol RI with the first ceremonial engorgement of burgers on the way.

One hour south of Boston in the seacoast town of historic Bristol, Rhode Island, lies the beautiful waterfront campus of Roger Williams University, our base for the next three days. A day first to rest up, practise and take an afternoon of surf and soda over at Newport. And to BBQ at dusk with the Carey’s, generous hosts and Scotophiles. Pipe Major John Sullivan popped round for a blaw and the medleys became quite competitive.

On the 4th of July, all roads lead to Bristol, Rhode Island site of the grandest and best-known Independence Day celebration in the United States. It is widely known that this small, sea-side community, founded in 1680, has the longest running, unbroken series of Independence Day observances in the country.

The beautiful old Colonial town, boasts dozens of restored Federal-period homes in its historic down town section on the parade route. Bristol is an ideal place for parades. It's broad, level, and well-paved streets, shaded by arches of ancient linden, maple and chestnut trees, make the march comfortable for those who participate, and enjoyable for those who watch.

Early on Independence Day, visitors and townsfolk begin to stake out their viewing posts and squatters' rights on the expansive grassy fronts that border the sidewalks along the three-mile flag-bedecked parade route. If the residents of the well-kept colonial homes on High and Hope Streets find strangers sitting on their front steps or leaning against their walls or shrubs, they say nothing, because this is Bristol's most hospitable day.

Most Bristol folks think Thanksgiving is good, and Christmas is better, but the Fourth of July is best; it is the town's secular holyday. The Fourth in Bristol is a busy day; it begins at 6:00 a.m., with the ringing of all church bells. At 9:00 a.m., the judging of competing parade floats begins; at 9:15 a.m., Patriotic Exercises commence on the marble piazza of the Colt Memorial School; and at 10:30 sharp, an aerial bomb signals the start of the long-awaited "Grand Military, Civic and Firemen's Parade." After the parade, the carnival on the Town Common resumes business for the balance of the day. In late afternoon, at the Chief Marshal's reception hundreds of invited military, church and civic officers, and citizens fill their champagne glasses from silver fountains. The day ends with a gigantic fireworks display launched from a barge in Bristol harbour.

The Parade is a huge event, attracting crowds of more than 100,000 people and extensive TV coverage. Our invitation came from the highly efficient organisers, Tony Medeiros and Fran O’Donnell. Tony sorted out our splendid accommodation for us and as a token of gratitude he was initiated as a honorary Scot by quaich and Bunnabhain. He somehow found time on the morning of the parade to sort out complex transport arrangements for us, although in scenes reminiscent of Speed, we finally had to commandeer a yellow school bus to reach the start of the Parade in time.

We did a preview for Cox Cable on a reassuringly cool and cloudy morning and then we were off. None of us was prepared for the sheer number of people who lined the streets, many camped since 7 a.m. with chairs, cloths and coolers. All the houses were bedecked in the Stars and Stripes, banners and balloons streamed overhead and the route was painted red, white and blue along the median line. The parade is split into 7 divisions, each with marching bands, floats, exhibits, military personnel and the entire police department. July 4th is a great day for burglary. The parade route is around 3 miles long and the youngsters did their best to respond to the clamour for continuous playing. Every standstill brought out the cold drink bottles. Every tune brought fresh applause.

The day might have tailed off into anticlimax had it not been for an extraordinary invitation from Beth Scott to join the family for a cookout. This from a lady who had no connection with Fettes yet who was prepared at a moment’s notice to feed 35 very hungry mouths. The younger Scotts had travelled some impressive distances to be home for July 4th, driving direct from Wisconsin and Minnesota and the cooking made you understand why. A fine afternoon was had by all.

The following day the party split. The youngsters went with drumming instructor, Jim Rafferty, to Newport for a day of sailboarding. The quartet and their minders had a surprise engagement at Greenvale, the lovely waterside mansion of Cortland and Nancy Parker. The Parker family has long Scottish connections yet it was astonishing to find a oil painting of the Old Pretender on the wall. Their friend, Ogden Ross runs the English Speaking Union in Rhode Island. Our troops were to hide in the undergrowth down by the water until the signal. Ogden’s second surprise was a cannon. Given the advanced age of some of the gathering it was a wonder that none expired from the shock of the apparent seabourne attack by piping Scots.

We then decamped to Boston to the well-appointed campus of Northeastern University, convenient for town and T. The eat-all-you-can cafeteria was a great success. The Great White Chief, co-ordinator of all he surveyed, went direct to an interview for the Smoki Bacon and Dick Concannon Show. His new celebrity status interview was less a recognition of hidden talents than a welcome follow-up to a visit by Smoki and Dick to Fettes in February. The rest of the group hit Filene’s Basement for some real American discount shopping.

To ensure more elevated pursuits a culture rebate was offered the next morning. Anyone who produced a ticket stub for the Science Museum or the Art Gallery received $10. The offer on the Ballet was $50 but there was only one claimant and he had last week’s ticket.

The big engagement in the evening was the Red Sox at the historic, intimate venue of Fenway Park. We were late and met by the indomitable Marcita Thomson, in curve-hugging and eye-catching orange. To be told that tune-up outside the stadium was impossible as the crowds who stopped to listen were blocking the entrances. So we gathered under the main stand and Jonathan Gillespie achieved the fastest tune-up of a band in piping history. Then out into the historic arena to play the Star Spangled Banner to 30, 000 bemused but appreciative fans. We had tickets for the Bleachers and settled down to watch the game. Red Sox 3 Atlanta 5.

Martin and Christina Lee’s friends, Brian and Lucy Rosborough, took us firmly in hand for a day of excursions and entertainment. We toured the Minuteman National Park and saw re-enactments of the Scots and English taking a drubbing from the Revolutionaries. A sextet, including Stefan Lees, marched over the Old North Bridge, to provide video footage for the assembled tourist throng. Later the youngsters lounged in the sun on the Rosborough’s lawn and chatted amicably to local journalists. The theatre of the Blue Man Group, a drumming mime, provided the late evening entertainment with industrial quantities of toilet roll.

An early start took us to New York and an excellent hotel. Wary of the city’s intimidating reputation, student orientation was one block at a time but the fear was all in the teacher’s mind. By evening the youngsters had learned to jaywalk, pile into a cab and haggle for sunglasses from itinerant vendors. Empire State late was great – no queues and uninterrupted views from the 82nd floor.

Thanks to the efforts of Julia Robinson of the British delegation, we had a lunchtime performance at the United Nations. The performance was the best yet and this on a hot and humid afternoon. Deputy Head, Judy Campbell, had to be physically manouevred into position for the surprise rendition of Happy Birthday – and this lady is not one to be pushed around. Ambassador Gambari of Nigeria, Under-Secretary General, a good friend of Fettes parent Ambassador Fernandez, gave a lucky few a personal tour in which he stressed the value of public service to the common wealth of nations. That evening most opted to go to the latest movies, 3 months before they would appear in Britain.

Parents were now starting to appear from all over the world. Jayne Nakajima popped over from Japan, Roz and Lance Davis from Venezuela and the Johnston's sailed the Atlantic. To be with us in Central Park.

West Nile virus was still in incubation and so the Park was busy as ever on a sunny evening . To draw in the crowd, pipers and drummers were sent out in groups of three or four. We mustered at the top of Literary Walk for a toast from Joe Rafferty to Sir Walter and Oor Rabbie. The rendition of Amazing Grace at the Band Shell was judged better than the Black Watch by a local flatterer. The American-Scottish Foundation and the New York Parks Department then treated us to a wonderful reception on the roof of the Arsenal. It was a great privilege to be there as the sun went down over the western skyscrapers, with OF’s, parents and friends. Alan Bain and Commissioner Stern each gave a gracious speech of welcome. And we are all most grateful to Gill Manelli of the New York City Parks department for organising this special day for us.

The following day was pure tourism. Some went across to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. Others were shopping in Chinatown with Angela Tong and her family. Martin Sprainzen gave us a taste of the history of Little Italy and the monster portions in Katz Deli.

For me the highlight of the tour was the last-minute opportunity to play Grand Central Station. Thanks to the agitation of the ladies of the Scottish-American Foundation and of Dickson Brown and the good will of Virgil Conway of the MTA, we were the first big sound to play the station for many months. The marble interior of this great terminus has now been restored and Grand Central is truly a rail cathedral. The band responded to this magnificent venue with a sound of the highest quality echoing round the hall. Although the performance was unannounced, a crowd soon gathered, jamming the stairs and requiring police direction. The Medlocks peddled CD’s shamelessly. Commuters stood transfixed on the concourse. Highland Cathedral had found a new home.

The MTA granted us our own car on the train to Bronxville. Somehow Dickson Brown had organised a police escort for us to march up the hill play on the green next to his home. A magnificent spread was laid out for the band and friends, with steaks the size of truck tyres and a huge, iced celebration cake.

The pace remained unrelenting even on the penultimate day. Somehow Steve Forbes found time off in the morning from running his magazine to meet with Fettesians Niall Rowantree and Brendan Hall and to talk politics and Scotland. The capable and charming Dorothy Lee, personal assistant to OF Christopher Brown, showed me around the new Friends of Fettes College base on Madison Avenue. The Trustees of Friends of Fettes College Inc. met in the Harvard Club to review progress over the last six months and the Headmaster arrived from London looking alarmingly fresh.

The Old Fettesian Dinner found the organiser tired, rather nervous and poor company for the Kirschbaum’s. He need not have worried for it was a memorable evening, one that the Club maitre d’hôte will remember for some time. This year’s crop of new Old Fettesians arrived in a stretch limo. The many OF’s included parents Morse and Thompson, the stalwart Hoosang and the effervescent Bobby Batmanglidj, Davidson Gordon, the glamour girls, Cathy and Laura Brown, and Rachel Boyd, the irrepressible Willy Morgan and first-timer Robert MacKenzie. Amongst the parents were the Janes Nakajima and Irvine-Robertson. The Tinsons, MacVicar and Coshan appeared as extra staff. The Headmaster and US OF President, Jacek Makowski, spoke to a lively audience and then the ceilidh started. There was talk of dark doings later when the Kimmerghame leavers joined their Housemaster on Broadway.

It was a weary party that boarded the bus in the rain the following morning. Our final engagement was at the New England Revolution soccer stadium at Foxboro. Ann Marie Genassi and Brian O Donovan of the Revolution gave us a warm welcome, the pre-match performance went well but several members of the band fell asleep watching the first half. It was a relief to board the plane that evening.

Dr. Adrian Hall