The 25th of January is Burns Night, and we always like to celebrate it – well, any excuse for a bit of a party, eh?
We brought in the haggis to the traditional skirl of pipes. Dim is getting quite good at the pipes now, and hardly sounds like a startled cat at all.
Once the noise had stopped, I cleared my throat, swirled my kilt a little and Addressed the Haggis:
Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin’-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye worthy o’ a grace
As lang’s my arm.
I know I haven’t got arms, but we’ll ignore that.
Then of course, it was time to get cooking. I couldn’t make out the small print, so I asked Bernard to read the instructions for me. Then Ernest and Arnold scooped the haggis out of the casing.
Then Hypnovaark and Matilda heaved it into the microwave and set the timer.
Winston supervised the boiling of the neeps and tatties, and when they were done Arnold sorted out the mashing.
And when it was all cooked we had a super supper!
But the fun didn’t end there. After we’d eaten, Peggy treated us to fine display of sword dancing. Gino watched, horrified, worried about her dainty feet.
And then we topped the whole evening off with pudding. It’s our version of Cranachan – raspberries, yoghurt and toasted oats. Very tasty! All in all, a very enjoyable evening. What are your favourite traditions?