Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face

Burns' Night has arrived at last: a full calender month after Christmas and a few days before the beginning of February. The pain involved in carrying two large turnips, a very large haggis and a litre bottle of Macallan's 12 year-old malt with me was finally worth it. The turnips had to be brought because the ones we are used to in Scotland bear absolutely no relation to the ones that pass for turnips over here. For one thing, ours are large, orange and sweet; theirs are small, pink and bitter. The assembled company included me, the token Scot and Master of Ceremonies, five Portuguese, a Spaniard and one Dane. Only three of us had ever tasted haggis before and five said that they didn't like the sound of it. All eight enjoyed it, and said they will certainly give it a go again. The big hit, however, apart from the Macallan, was Green Grow the Rashes, O, to which everyone joined in the chorus. All in all, a very enjoyable evening was had.


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