I’m half Scot, half Brit, and married to an Irishman. This means:
I burn easily.
I know my way around a tartan tam.
I can highland dance (sort of).
I have a shed load of beer steins.
I have firsthand knowledge about what men may or may not wear under their kilts.
It also means I celebrate Robbie Burns Day. Well, I haven’t actually blown my bagpipes, so to speak, for several years. Since my Grandma McGreggor passed away, it’s just not the same. She came to Canada from Scotland as a young bride, shortly after my dad was born near Edinburgh, in a castle. By Scottish law, I’m fairly certain that makes me a princess somehow. Anyway, she brought with her a rich heritage and a thick accent, which she kept all her life. Tried as I may, I was never able to replicate her lilt. And trust me, I've tried. My accents always sound like a mix of Swedish and Swahili and some weird clicking dialect.
Robert Burns was a hero to my grandmother and her fellow countryman. He was a poet and Scotland's favourite son. The Bard, as he is also known, lived from January 25, 1759 to July 21, 1796. Those with Scottish ties celebrate his birthday every January 25th aka, Robbie Burns Day.
If you’ve clinked champagne glasses on New Year’s Eve while singing Auld Lang Syne, then you know Robbie Burns—he wrote that famous anthem.
Now that my children are getting older, I’m trying to impart upon them the history and heritage of our family. This year, we’re going to resurrect the Burns Supper. Minus the haggis. I’m sorry, I know it’s an integral part of the celebration, but I just can’t {sheep} stomach it. To make amends, we’ll keep the other staple intact – the scotch whiskey. Sigh. If we must, we must.
The traditional celebration begins with The Selkirk Grace (recited by me in my trademark Swedish lilt).
Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it,
But we hae meat and we can eat,
Sae the Lord be thankit.
Following grace, a Scotch broth or potato soup is served with Scottish oat bread.
Then it's time for the main course. Since we’re a haggis free zone I'm going to serve scotch pies instead.
Before digging in, the host addresses the haggis scotch pie. I plan to play this video. At this point I figure I’ve already confused my children enough with my horrid accent and absent haggis. It’s probably better they watch a full-blooded Scotsman reciting this Robert Burns’ poem. Also, I like the subtitles since my Scottish is wee bit rusty. {Okay, I read that last line aloud in my best Scottish accent and I have to say, it was pretty good}.
A whiskey toast follows the address and it’s time to eat.
After the meal, guests stand, hold hands and sing auld lang syne {a song that makes me cry every time I hear it….maybe it’s all the whiskey?}.
Happy Robbie Burns Day everyone!
May the best ye've ever seen
Be the warst ye'll ever see.
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