It's Burns Night, a night when Scots young and auld sit down for a proper Burns supper of haggis, 'neeps and tatties; whiskey and a recital of some of the bard's famous works.
Well, we had haggis. One out of three isn't so bad, right? ...Right?
Came home for work and bought a haggis for Dave to cook for dinner, after haggling over what kind of tatties we were having (no 'neeps, Dave isn't too keen on turnips). He was surprised that I bought a real haggis instead of a tinned one. I'm not entirely sure why anyone would eat haggis out of a tin, the squishy meat-bag in the fun part.
We had it with some Pimms & lemonade, played video games, watched TV, washed the dishes, and made Rocky Road. It wasn't exactly traditional, but it was delicious.
Now I'm checking up the Wikipedia page on Burns Suppers, getting excited about the 'Address to a Haggis' and regretting not reading it. Then I try to read it and get horribly self-conscious about how ridiculously Scottish I'm sounding, and keep interrupting my own reading going 'What...?' and 'I don't know what that means...' before trailing off confused and defeated.
I think next year I might do it properly, complete with embarrassing poetry readings, a messed-up Toast to the Lassies because Dave will no doubt have made the meal again, and maybe even a fair share of whiskey.
I love To A Mouse, and not just because I went through a fangirl stage for Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men".
But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!
...It's because we all guess an' fear sometimes.
Now, I've got some Rocky Road to nom on.