I STEPPED into another world on Saturday – it was colourful and noisy, but strangely alien.
Watching the Orange Walk as it marched up Nicol Street and then veered right along Beveridge Road it struck me as an event completely out of step and synch with its host town.
And that begged the question – why on earth was it allowed to go ahead at all?
What did we get out of it apart from a couple of hours of disruption and a town centre filled with countless Rangers tops?
Raith Rovers couldn't train at Stark's Park because of the road closures, residents were told to shift their cars or have them impounded – for which they'd be hit with a hefty recovery fee – and the chance of them going about their normal family business was absolutely zero until the march had concluded. Too bad if their kids had to go to swimming classes, or if their relatives decided to drop in for a cuppa.
Along Beveridge Road, many folk stood in their doorways watching the grim spectacle pass by. More than a few just shook their heads at the futility of it. Swan Road was simply log-jammed with traffic.
And all because Orangemen have the ''right to march...''
The decision to steer the march away from the town centre was correct, but this route was wholly inappropriate. If we must host such an event then it should be via the shortest, most direct route from A to B and it should not impinge on residents' daily business.
But it's beyond me why Kirkcaldy should even be on the Orange calendar at all. It's not a town steeped in the tradition – save for the East Fife Protestant Defenders, I struggled to sport a single Fife connection on the march, and the fact most people watching seeemed to know someone marching suggested very few locals were inclined to give up their afternoon to take in the spectacle of this ''public parade.''
I've always thought Orange Walks, for all their anachronistic faults, were colourful affairs. Only close up do you see the colours aren't so fine – the uniforms looked frayed through heavy use, the banners and sashes are ragged. There's a dishevelled roughness about the whole spectacle. It looks tired and very out of time. On Saturday it was completely out of place.
Lanarkshire, Glasgow and Ayrshire are its traditional strongholds, along with bits of West Lothian which explained the banners proclaiming their heritage and history. Sheildhill Young Loyal stood out, and then there were the Forth True Defenders, the
Martyrs Of The Grassmarket, and Daughters Of Ruth. They all have great significance to the order, but their history and tradition were completely lost on Kirkcaldy.
And then there were the tunes. Sure there's nothing more stirring than a marching band striking up, but when they launch into ''The Sash'' for the third or fourth time you realise this isn't the same as a family-friendly parade of cheerleaders doing numbers from High School Musical.
Still, I did marvel at the rendition of ''You Cannae Shove Yer Granny Aff The Bus'' and the sight of one band introducing a stop-start dance step to their flute-version of ''My Grandfather's Clock'' made me laugh. They really ought to audition for ''Britain's Got Talent.''
Okay, I'm being flippant, but it strikes me that Orange Walks, which are meant to celebrate a specific faith and history, are grim affairs where solemnity over-rides a sense of fun. There again, John Knox wasn't renowned for the way he cracked a joke.
I hope they enjoyed their day out, but forgive me if I don't say ''haste ye back...''