Ants was working til 10pm, but that didn't stop us hosting our first Burns night on Friday. We'd done a bunch of reading up and in the end, decided to dispense with many of the formalities, but the essential bits were there: haggis, whiskey, a poem by the bard himself, a little bit said about his life (mostly involving the remarkable legacy he left the nation, in syntax that no foreigner could ever understand!), lashings of Scottish music and damn good company.
None of us possessing a passable Scots accent, we dispensed with the dozens of verses of Burns' ode "To a haggis", although we did sneak in the Selkirk Grace. And none of us plays the bagpipes, so we had to settle for putting 'Scots wha hae...' on the CD player to carve up the pair of sheeps' stomachs filled with offal and oats that I'd picked up at the market the week before. But there were proper neeps and tatties, some token green beans, and if I may say so myself, the whisky and cream sauce I made up worked a proper treat!
Sophie and Catherine, you're dreadful pikers for refusing to eat sheep's guts, but thanks for coming anyway. Darren, Alex, Phil and Ants, you are proper honorary Scotties and if I had any capacity left after all the wine and whiskey, I'd raise one more glass to ye... oh my head will hurt in the morning!
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