Every April, Lyon College hosts the Arkansas Scottish Festival. It’s a great weekend of tartans, bagpipes, haggis, and Highland games. I try to go whenever I can, especially since I have a son in college there. (—-Well, to be honest, I mostly ogle at the men in kilts.)
Visiting Britain is on my bucket list. One day I’ll make it happen. I’ve traced my genealogical roots, and I’m Welsh, Irish, English, and Scottish. Through my research, I’ve found royalty, castles, knights, and Crusaders in my heritage. As soon as I can afford it, I’m booking that trip of a lifetime to walk in the steps of my forefathers.
Long before I found my roots, however, I was a fan of Celtic culture. There’s just something about the Celts. They’re resilient. Always the underdogs–whether it be against Vikings, Saxons, the English, or even as immigrants in America, but still they persist. They’re the “everyman” workers in coal mines. They’re potato farmers and sailors. They’re clansmen, true to their leaders. They belong to close-knit families. Religious. Loyal to their homeland. And if you know anything about Scottish weddings, Scotsmen can be quite romantic.
I’d pick a Celtic hero or heroine over any other. Celtic women were badass; they fought along with the men.
In early Britannia battles, the Celts (men and women) wore their long hair braided and had tattoos and piercings. In my opinion, the men were the original bad boys. When I imagine a muscled, tattooed Celt in a tartan kilt, this lady’s a goner.
So far, I’ve only written about the Welsh. They’re the less known of the Celts, but they have an intriguing mythology. After all, the mystical legends of King Arthur and Merlin originate with the Welsh. My current WIP is about a Welsh princess and her Norman captive. Someday I might write about an Irishman or Scot, too. I’m not too picky, but the Celtic accent is a prerequisite!