"Do you want (bag)pipes or not?"

I overheard this question yesterday as I was waiting to cross the road. 
The person next to me was having a conversation on his phone. 
    "No, not in the church, outside."
Wedding or funeral?
I never found out - although I will admit I was curious.
The last funeral but one  I went to  had a piper - outside the church. I  have been to more than one wedding with a piper - outside the church.
Bagpipes are outdoor instruments. They are not intended to be played indoors.
Middle Cat, known for collecting a variety of  instruments, came home from the country of our ancestors with a chanter for a set of bagpipes. Our mother refused to let her go any further. (Middle Cat plays keyboard, flute and classical guitar.) My brother has attempted to play them. (He plays keyboard and sax rather well.) The Black Cat has not tried. (She plays keyboard.) 
My nephews have never tried to play the pipes - although there is a similar instrument in their father's heritage.
If you are a Sassenach then you may consider the sound of the pipes rather dreich but, to those north of the border and their descendants in the rest of the world, they are a different matter. We have a love-hate relationship with them I suppose - love them outside and hate them inside.  
Last summer we took the youngest kittens to a Christmas parade. There were all sorts of things passing by from fairy tale characters to clowns juggling, an African group with drums, a decorated fire vehicle, there was a police band...and there was a pipe band at the end of it all.  
The very youngest kitten looked up at me as it past, clutched my hand tightly and said, "That was the very bit of all." Her grandfather, my brother, gave me a smile and said, "Spoken like a true Scot."
Yes, I know, some people loathe the pipes. They regard them as nothing more than an appalling noise - something akin to an animal in great distress.
But others? I cast my mind back to something that happened one afternoon some years before. I had remained friendly with my late art lecturer. He and his wife welcomed me into their home on many occasions.We were sitting on their front porch when a neighbour further down the street came out and began to play the pipes.
    "Ah, Don's gone," B.... told me.
The piper's father had died a short while before. His son had agreed to let everyone in the street know by playing on the pipes. It was a Saturday and, for once, there was no football match or other activity to keep people away. As I watched almost everyone in the short street came out for a moment and silently paid their respects to a man they had all admired. They were later played by an entire band at his funeral.
And now I wonder whether the conversation yesterday related to a wedding or a funeral or something else....?