Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Burns Suppers All Around

Monday was Robert Burn's birthday! Rabbie, as they call him (though when I see that spelling, I can't help but see Rabbi with an e at the end rather than a cute adaptation of Robby) is their national poet. In America and England, they teach us that the Bard is Shakespeare, but in fact the Bard is one womanizing Scot, Robert Burns. Last week and this week everyone was hosting Burns Suppers in honor of Rabbie, and so of course I tagged along to see what all the fuss was about.

Some of the awesome people I work with invited me to a fancy Burns supper where they'd bought a table and that is how I ended up at a Burns supper far nicer than I had the right to be at. It was a dream.

Probably 80% of the men were wearing kilts. Like real deal wearing kilts with the knee-high socks and fancy purse things and everything. We followed a bagpiper into the hall and he played until the dinner started. The address to the haggis was so well done that I couldn't understand a word the man said. The dinner was actually way good. I've found that I can be friends with haggis as long as I don't think about what I'm eating. The Immortal Memory speech was largely dedicated to Burns' sexual exploits, which somehow wasn't as offensive as it sounds. Then a very talented kid sang some Burns songs, including Green Grow the Rashes that was probably my favorite song of the night. The "Toast to the Lassies" was funny. Hannah Bardell, the MP whose office is next door to the one where I work, gave the "Reply from the Lassies" and gave the best speech of the night. She was funny, bold, and also just the right bit of sincere. And then we all help hands and sang all the verses of Auld Lang Syne and that was the perfect end to the most Scottish night of my life.
The crew at the Burns Supper
An artsy picture that does haggis more credit than it probably deserves

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