The 25th. January is the birthday of the celebrated Scottish poet, Robert Burns …. “Burns Night”. (Of course, you knew that.) I am not in any way Scottish, but as I struggle to shake off the worst cold I have had in ages I really need something to celebrate. So tonight we dined on haggis, tatties and bashed neaps, washed down with a good glass of a single malt whisky.* This is the classic menu for the occasion, much as Americans eat turkey at Thanksgiving.
Apart from anything else, the occasion was noteworthy because my wife decided that she ought to try whisky. To my immense relief she decided that she doesn’t actually like it. The whisky must have done me some good, because after a week in which I have used something like ten boxes of paper handkerchiefs I was able to summon the physical and moral energy to win at Scrabble.
It is curious to note the activities that are affected, positively or negatively, by a severe cold. Last night I did feel well enough to stagger over to Ilkley to my regular life-drawing class. I have not been able to do any work on my own account for two weeks now, but for some odd reason the stuff I did at the class was as good as anything else I have done.
I will be taking the week-end off in order to visit one of our sons and his family in Sheffield. With any luck I might be firing on all cylinders by the time I get back.
*Haggis is a kind of thick sausage, made from pork offal, oatmeal and spices, much loved in Scotland. “tattoos” are simply potatoes, and “bashed neaps” are crushed turnips.