As a new clan, in a new century and a new millenium...….blah, blah, blah…… Anyway, with the diaspora spread over the globe, the idea of a chief in these times is totally redundant. The days are long past when an alpha figure is needed to lead a raid on the bastards in the next glen. Though the folk in the next glen are free to remain bastards. Henceforth, any person claiming leadership as chief, laird, generalisimo, living deity, big cheese, el presidente, exalted leader, top banana, secretary of the clan society, lord & master, high commisioner, or any other grandiose title, ain’t part of our clan, matey. We’re equals. Comrades via the common etymology of Simidh, which includes the names: Simpson, MacSimidh, MacShimes, MacSimon, MacSymon, Sim, Sime, Simon, Simons, Sims, Simson, Sym, Syme, Symon, Symons, MacImmey, MacKim, MacKimmie, Tsu-Fong, Mohammed. If any other permutations have been omitted, forgive us. You’re quite welcome, too. Those choosing to remain allied with the Frasers may do so. No worries. It bothers us none at all --- ye dingoes.
We’ll
call our ancestral turf the Inverness-shire region. No bloody
castles
or estates. We’re welcome to visit, roam or reside there as we please.
Just think. Shopping in the same Tesco our ancestors shopped in
centuries
ago.
Our tartan, clan badge and nifty
slogan?
For the time being, we’ll use those of Fraser. Nothing like
instilling
a wee paranoia, eh? They won’t know who’s wi’ them and who’s against
them.
Anyway, we paid good money for that gear.
Not
Castle Simidh

So you folk at the
Sheriff's
Court don't get your knickers twisted and relax.
View the Original Clan Simidh Manifesto
Current
Ancestral Turf Weather
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