Rock On Rabbie

Week Seventeen: Sunday 21 – Saturday 27 January

Being on a writing course, and being the only Scot, I decided to organize a Burns Supper for my fellow writing students and the course tutors. It was a lot of work, but well worth the effort; not only did everyone have a brilliant time, a good few Sassenachs gained a valuable education on the many merits of both Burns and haggis.

Burns Suppers are traditionally held one month after Christmas, on 25 January, the anniversary of the death of the Bard of Scotland and can be anything from small and highly casual to large and highly formal. My Burns Supper was a medium sized affair that was both highly formal and highly casual at the same time.

Thirty-three of us crammed in to our course leader’s living room for a traditional three course Burns Supper dinner, followed by cheese and oatcakes. Entertainment was provided by a real, live piper, a cd of Eddie Reader singing Burns, recitals of an Address to a Haggis, My Luve is Like a Red, Red Rose and Scots Wha Hae, and, of course, the Immortal Memory, Toast to the Lassies and Response from Lassies speeches.

It was the first Burns Supper I have ever organized, and it couldn’t have gone better; from beginning to end it was a spectacular night. I was aided and abetted by two stalwarts in my life: my brother, a trained chef and restaurant manager of many years standing, who took care of all the catering and service; my wife, an artist and trained graphic designer, who took care of all the place names, programme booklets and table decorations.

I didn’t really have to do much: a few tables, chairs, crockery, cutlery and glasses to be begged, borrowed or stole; a bit of lifting and moving furniture!

The only thing I asked of the attendees was that they wore something tartan; they responded in kind, with an eclectic mix of tartan garb, from tights and head scarves, to dressing gowns and (allegedly) a thong. Although I was resplendent in full, official, tartan dress, I was upstaged by the outrageous Liam, our course gay, who turned up in a fantastic tartan mini-dress and proceeded to sashay around all night like a catwalk model.

The vast majority of the people who attended had never been to a Burns Supper before, nor had they ever tasted haggis. Most admitted afterwards that they thought they’d just be turning up to hold their nose and swallow a couple of mouthfuls of haggis without retching. They had no idea they were going to be entertained by a piper, mesmerized by Burns’ gift with words, enthralled by top class speeches, and enjoy, yes enjoy, the up-till-then, horror inducing haggis!

Not to mention the Scots whiskey! A wee dram or two of Tamnavulin malt passed more than a wee lip or two; as the night wore on and the whiskey kicked in a wee bum and a wee timorous beastie or three were flashed repeatedly from under kilts on a regular basis. It must be one of the few occasions when a man can flash his privates in public in a room full of women and not cause any offence!

I got four hours sleep that night, made an attempt to rearrange my course leader’s living room so it resembled something close to how it looked before I took it over, attended a photography course and then drove up to Edinburgh with my brother to spend three days catching up with some family and friends!

Aye, the Scots are hardcore: but it was worth every minute, every second, of effort and time. Rabbie Burns was a great man and his memory is one that is well worth celebrating; especially when in the company of people who knew so little about before.