It’s Friday evening in Nuku’alofa.  Driving home from work.   Nine thousand, nine-hundred and fifty-two miles from Scotland, deep in the swells of the South Pacific.

Two exceptionally cheerful bagpipers (and one reticent, kilted lass) march out of The Billfish fisherman’s bar, bagpipes roarin’, heading to the International Dateline Hotel to play for the Princess.

This is Tonga Time!