This is Loch Kennard, which I was named after (sub: please check) when my fore-fathers acquired eighteen bolts of material from a Scottish cloth merchant and failed to pay the bill, way back in the 17th century. The deal was that in three hundred years time, their descendants would have to name their first born something which sounded like Loch Kennard, their favourite fishing retreat. Had I been a girl, I might have been named Glockenspiel Kennard or Callista Flockhart Kennard. In the event it was more simple and Luke Kennard, me, was born. Thus, while I am not Scottish enough to wear a kilt at a wedding, I am Scottish-by-association enough to enjoy haggis and single malt. Happy Burns Night, all.
