As many of you are no-doubt unaware, tonight on the 25th of January the wee country of Scotland celebrates it’s most famous poet, Rabbie Burns and I’d like to wish you all Merry Burns Night.
It’s traditionally a feast with altogether too much theatrical speechifying and toastilliating. The centrepiece of which is an ode to an already infamous denizen of these forums, the Haggis.
If everyone in the often large gathering isn’t already drunk, they now rapidly become so in order to more merrily navigate the untold more speeches and toasts that flower after the meal.
Top off the evening with an wickedly complicated Scottish Country Dancing tornado and generally leave with a happy if rather confused smile.
I would add, it’s probably best to remember that Burns Supper might be best taken with a pinch of salt.
I like listening, but these Yank ears can’t make head or tail of it.
As it happens, I am enjoying some McClelland’s scotch presently, and I actually used to go Scottish dancing once a week as a young teen with some friends of scottish descent.
cross over
kick out
step back-two-three-four
cross over
kick out
step back-two-three-four
cross over
kick out
step back-two-three-four
front-two-three-four
back-two-three-four
cross over
kick out
step back-two-three-four
but i’ll not be doing it tonight, laddie.
I worked a double tonight and and yesterday. I’m beat.
when I ask for “whiskey” around my way, bartenders try to foist something distilled from corn mash upon me. to get what I want, I must say “Scotch.” sorry, but that’s the reality. try not to let it get under your skin, pal.
