Haggis! Burns Night!

For the first time ever I’m in the mood to celebrate Burns Night. Not that I’m in any way Scots of course –although according to my parents, both sides of the family are of Highland stock who moved to England during the Highland clearances after Culloden, and on my mum’s side we’re Gordons. Hence my terrible middle name.

Actually, (slight aside here), I’m not entirely sure why my parents got divorced, I mean they do and like exactly the same things: Family trees, Round the Horne, The Goons, rationing, The Daily Mail-fuelled fear of the swarthy foreigner taking over, moaning about each other. They just pursue these hobbies separately these days…

Anyhoo, Ana’s out (on yet another Birthday-based night) with Kendra, and Milo’s got a sleepover so not only am I guaranteed a whole haggis to myself, I can also drink whisky, talk in a fake accent and play youtube clips of the pipes as loudly as I like without anybody complaining about the noise/accent/smell/sheep’s stomach.

Even better, having stopped off at our neighbours opposite after dropping Milo off, I channel my inner Scottish heritage by cooking whilst completely hammered, and only eating at 23.00:

Not only is it delicious – I do love the Haggis – but I imagine my slurring attempts at Rabbie’s address, and chopping it up with one of Milo’s pirate swords is exactly in keeping with the spirit of the event. It’s a shame I couldn’t find Milo’s kilt towel, otherwise I’d have worn that, but I think the Gruffalo in Gaelic more than made up for it.

D'ye ken?