Fa kent that cooking thon haggis wi neeps an' tatties could lead to such personal injury? Aften times I've peeled the tatties, but never thon little anes with such a muckle peeler, an' nae in such haste, a party of friends arriving yestreen, and thers me running behint an' greetin with pain like a bad temperet bairn.
Twa bloody and shredded fingers and a muckle burn on ma haun later they were all peeld! How the burn came aboot I dinna ken as I wasnae even the cook! My job was to get a'thing aboot the place perjink and clean. For sure it wasnae the speed of thon peeling but closeness to ane of the haggis plates that skaithed ma haun.
3 haggis fae the oven, neeps an' mashed tatties, finishin wi' the Cranachan made wi' Tobermory Scotch, all tae feed 10 friens. I, a'bdy greet it was fine food in the end an' bellyfu for all. Poetry, a toast to the haggis, bleth'rin an' haverin on for a fine Burns evenin (all be it a nicht early).
For those celebrating - May you all have a lovely Burns Night (wi oot the Burns), and gonnae no do what I did when peeling the tatties, just gonnae no. Here's a wee bit of music to celebrate the occasion (of Rabbie Burns night, no the tattie peeling). Paul Mounsey with 'North'. This particular video has edited out the guitar piece, which I prefer. There's something about music like this that makes me want to escape to the hills (not that I'm locked up anywhere mind).
I cant wait for Spring to start walking in the countryside again....
Who's Spring I hear you ask.
And I'd like to end this post with a Burns poem that I learned by heart...
Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear,
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair,
Fuzzy Wuzzy wasnae Fuzzy,
Wuzz he?
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