Burn's night 25th January and for the last few years it has been spent with close friends. We attempt to get our toungs around the Scottish dialect and recite some of the great poet's words; what fun! and the food and drink is good for both body and spirit.
A toast to the Haggis piped in with great ceremony followed by neeps n tatties; will there be room for pudding? Oh yes! says Fr Gerry. The lads toast the lassies and the lassies toast the lads (more whiskey) ending with old lang syne.
Time goes so quickly and folk are on their way - blessings and haste ye back. The washing up and putting away is soon complete and the kitchen eases into a lull. The CD player in the corner is still strumming out sounds of The Corries, I pull up a chair and settle down to a plate of cheese and oatcakes; I convinced myself it would taste much better with a dram of whiskey.
The wind was whistling round the house end and seemed intent on moving anything in it's path. Yet the haunting sound of the pipes and flute pushed the wind into the distance and memories of Scotland; another kitchen, accordion and voices came flooding back to me. A quick check round before I go to bed, the dinning room where we all had sat and as I saw where each had been, I blessed each one and went to bed.
Note to evening office: Count – literally – your blessings. Enumerate your reasons to be cheerful. Only then pray your complaints!