Burns Night twice over
This weekend I was lucky enough to be invited to two Burns Night Suppers - especially so as I love haggis and can always be persuaded to sip a 'wee dram'. The first evening was over at my friend's home in North Ealing where a jolly party cheered in the haggis, presented on a platter and an Irish neighbour (closest accent we could find) gamely recited the 'Address to a Haggis' and stabbed it with a vengeance on the line "And cut you up with ready slight, trenching your gushing entrails bright". Born into a family of poor tenant farmers and a lifelong socialist, Burns would have warmed to our after-supper discussions about this week's Davos headlines, the latest Tory party dramas and what is to be done about the NHS?
My second Burns Night celebration was by contrast, totally about food and festivity, the more popular aspect of Rabbie heritage. This time a whole host of friends and neighbours gathered at our local pub, The Fox in Olde Hanwell, as the haggis was piped in by a wonderfully kilted piper, presented on a silver salver. We were treated to an extremely dramatic 'Address' and haggis stabbing before all tucking in to another delicious traditional supper. To work off some of those tasty calories, a few of us squashed into the mini marquee for some Scottish dancing (well, 'square' dancing but close enough?), later followed by an 'Immortal Memory' recital, a ‘Toast to the Lassies’ and a 'Reply to the Laddies'. As we agitate and campaign for gender equality, these traditional entertainments felt somewhat outdated. I know a few shared my misgivings but not for long as, all too soon, we were standing up and joining hands for 'Auld Lang Syne' and dear Robbie Burns brought the evening to a close. His legacy lives on for another year.
My second Burns Night celebration was by contrast, totally about food and festivity, the more popular aspect of Rabbie heritage. This time a whole host of friends and neighbours gathered at our local pub, The Fox in Olde Hanwell, as the haggis was piped in by a wonderfully kilted piper, presented on a silver salver. We were treated to an extremely dramatic 'Address' and haggis stabbing before all tucking in to another delicious traditional supper. To work off some of those tasty calories, a few of us squashed into the mini marquee for some Scottish dancing (well, 'square' dancing but close enough?), later followed by an 'Immortal Memory' recital, a ‘Toast to the Lassies’ and a 'Reply to the Laddies'. As we agitate and campaign for gender equality, these traditional entertainments felt somewhat outdated. I know a few shared my misgivings but not for long as, all too soon, we were standing up and joining hands for 'Auld Lang Syne' and dear Robbie Burns brought the evening to a close. His legacy lives on for another year.