Someone somewhere in our little village has taken up the bagpipes. They have practised every day in early afternoon. They are working on Scotland the Brave and aren't half bad. I've been known to almost tear up and have to choke down a lump in my throat when I hear bagpipes in a parade. They remind me of my father. No, he didn't play, but held on to his Scottish heritage.
Unfortunately, the only thing I can think of when I hear these pipes in the afternoon is this: