Wednesday, January 25, 2006

OK, so where's your card?

I've always been pissed off that I have had to celebrate my birthday on Burns Night. Now I have nothing against Robert Burns personally, but have you ever tried to read his rubbish? Take a look here. I rest my case. Why is this man so celebrated in Scotland? Have the Scots no taste when it comes to poetry? Is this the best that they can produce? Having said that, when you consider that this is the land of the deep fried Mars Bar, it sort of explains it really. Any nation that can invent haggis, cover it in good whisky, set fire to it, play the bloody bagpipes to announce its arrival at dinner, wear skirts, and carry a huge chip on their shoulders, deserves Robert Burns as their favourite poet. Oh, and I forgot to mention that he also wrote Auld Lang Syne! Thank God they've got their independence, give them their own passport I say.


Now then, back to my birthday. It was a very pleasant sunny day and it started with a nice lie in, when I got my birthday treats. (No details please - Ed.) Jan very kindly bought me a very expensive bottle of twice distilled Lagavulin, my favourite malt whisky, a box of Belgian chocolates and 2 books.
We had a slight scare when we 'lost' Max (Minnie was in the house), who had managed to get down onto the bottom road and gone for a little explore. This is only the second time that he has left the garden unaccompanied and we haven't yet figured out his escape route. Anyway, he was pleased as punch with himself when I let him back in through the gate, full of bouncy energy at his successful 'adventure'. Yet one more thing to look out for now.
For dinner, Jan prepared her own version of duck with hoi sin sauce, followed by 5 hour slow cooked lamb and then 2 puddings, one an individual tiramisu and the other a pineapple upside down cake with a little mascarpone on the side. The perfect end to a lovely day. Thank you darling.

1 comment:

Tails said...

Actually just got in from a Burns Night celebration we organised. Well actually a piss up in a pub with food (not haggis or even scottish) that we organised for the telecoms media. One guy did read out some Burns but we tried not to listen.