My parents had the wise idea of having Burns Night celebrations on Saturday 24th January, rather than the 25th - the Baird's acutal birth date. We were so pleased they did.
The night started with the boys off to the pub, leaving us girls with a bottle of pink fizz and nibbles - gossiping in the kitchen as usual. Everything was in hand the Haggis, steaming away, the Neeps and Tatties boiling gently, to be mashed later with creme fraiche and egg for the tatties and heaps of butter for the neeps. We served all on a large serving platter and although we could not pipe in the Haggis, my father took the traditional toast to the Haggis, before slashing into the spicy innards.
(Aplogies, for the badly presented food piccy, much had been imbibed already and it is sheer luck that I actually remembered to take photos.)
Served with glasses of whisky and a CD by the brilliant Eddie Reader singing the songs of Burns we devoured the feast.
After wards we recited some of Burns poems, drank more whisky, put on some other Scottish Folk music, danced, sang and drank more whiskey.
Several hours or types of whisky later, hubby and I trotted back home, full of Scottish spirit.