The skirl of the pipes and a sporran full of dog treats

A meeting with a bagpipes maestro reminds Fiona of memorable moments in years gone by and gives her hope for the future

You can soon spot a bagpipe player. He (or she) is the one who’ll be having coffee and constantly drumming their fingers on the side of the cup. They are feeling for the notes on the chanter. They are making mental music while they chat. Their deft digits can move faster than my poor brain can think.

And this week a man who is a master of the art comes onto my filming radar again.

I worked with this particular piper 20 years ago. We were making a film about Clan Armstrong and he was just a lad.

Back then we placed him on the banks of a river. The trees were in glorious autumn colour. The sun was peeping out from behind the clouds. He began to play and we were entranced.

Two decades ago this teenager was already gifted. Today, Chris Armstrong is one of the world’s great musicians.

Pipe Major of the famous grade one Scottish Power band, Chris has a string of CDs and a bagpipe business to his name.

He also teaches – which is where I meet him – at a piping school for young people in south-west Scotland.

This time we are also filming and now 33 trainee pipers and drummers play A Scottish Soldier for our cameras. They are amazing.

A diminutive eight-year-old does battle with a half-drum and is more than winning. Another has a set of pipes almost as big as she is and is pumping out a tune. The fact is, if you get them young, they may become hooked.

Chris comes from the Stirling area and he is joined by other Scottish greats who are hoping to encourage the next generation of pipers and drummers – among them, Lockerbie’s Callum Moffat and Billy Geddes, a Glasgow policeman.

Billy reminds me that he has, in the past, piped the chief and his MacGregor clansmen and women into the Lochearnhead Games. We will look out for him at this year’s event, which takes place today.

If the weather holds, this is a Highland jaunt not to be missed. Even if it rains, it will be a memorable day.

We will certainly be there, but the MacNaughties will not be with us. The last time we took them Barra the Cocker leapt 3ft in the air when a skirl started 3ft away from his large and floppy ears. Even Rummie the tenacious terrier looked confused.

A diminutive eight-year-old does battle with a halfdrum and is more than winning

In fact, only the old spaniel – now no longer with us – could take the wail of the pipes. Then he was stone deaf. Or, at least, he was selectively deaf.

Jack would march obediently on a lead alongside the chief. Head held high he seemed to be rather proud – and why not? He had on a stylish MacGregor red and green tartan bow.

Yes, for once, the one we used to call the Devil Dog was on his best behaviour. Which may have had something to do with the fact that my husband’s sporran was full of dog treats…