Burns Supper

Burns Supper....

Thank god for Belgian beer, I get up late but with no hangover... So much to do. The flat hasn't been tidied in about 2 months, so everything needs to be done before I can peel potatoes and turnips. I crank up my playlist and get mopping.

Eventually The Kiwi surfaces and I head off for the Tatties while he mops. I head off to Albert Heijn with a big rucksack and get the Tatties and various other bits and pieces I forgot Yesterday. The Bulgarian Bride is coming over early to help peel and cook, so I bought a bottle of white wine to drink while cooking.... while packing the bag it smashes near the bottom. There's little else I can do but strap it onto my back and walk the half mile home with white wine dripping down my leg.

Uggggg.....

I get back, and the flat is the cleanest it's ever been. The Kiwi heads off to pump some iron, and I get stuck in to whipping cream for the Cranachan.

Before long, everything is in hand and Family Bulgaria arrives. Obi Wan Kenobov is in fine form and sporting a newly shorn head... We set in about the tatties and I start boiling the turnips which I've already peeled and sliced. This is really tough for some reason, Neeps, which I never liked anyway seem to be tougher, more tasteless and take longer to boil in this country. Coupled with the fact that they are hard to find in the supermarket, they are my least favourite vegetables, so I have dealt with them before Obi Wan is around to hear my swearing and cursing.

Once everything is done, we relax with a bowl of Scotch Broth:

As we do this, the other guests arrive in dribs and drabs. We have an Englishman, The Kiwi, a Kiwi girl who is the significant other of the Englishman and another bulgarian couple. He is a regular at the Gollem and appreciates most forms of alcohol to a connoisseur level, and she is an intellectual who appreciates most types of prose to a connoisseur level. She has brought me a book of Burns in Bulgarian. She has been doing some background reading, and it turns out that the Bulgarian's all know more Burns than they first suspected. I even get a book of Burns in Bulgarian as a gift:


Everyone settles with a drink. It turns out that The Kiwi girl was a regular in the bar that I met the Bulgarian bride. We both drank there in 2002, but neither of use remember each other - I blame it on the Jaegermeister.

With the Bulgarian book, and me prompted with the correct guitar chords and rhythm we perform a Bulgarian rendition of a Burns song while dancing and drinking...

Rabbie would have been proud.

Once everyone has had a little bit of food and a few drink, I rattle off Tam O'Shanter; a poem by Burns:

"When chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neibors, neibors, meet;

It's a long poem but has so much rhythm and pace that I think most folk manage to enjoy it. It tells the story of a drunken scottish blellum, who despite his wife's best advice, stays for one too many in the pub and ends up having to ride home through a storm. When he passes a ruined church which is holding a party for witches and warlocks he gets himself into more trouble than he bargained for.

The poem rings home for we drougthy cronies who prop up the bar at the gollem before cycling home well mounted on the modern version of our grey mair meg through Amsterdam's mosses, waters, slaps and stiles that lie between us and our hame whiles crooning o'er some auld seattle grunge sonnet:





After this, I give the poetry a break and serve up some Haggis. Almost everyone enjoys it.

By this point everyone is fou and unco happy.. everyone has broken off into little groups... We have people discussing Burns Poetry in Bulgarian, others discussing burns poetry in lallans scots, people appreciating a good whisky(laphroig), pickers finding new combinations of cheese and mustard to put on oatcakes, a Spike Milligan poetry book churning out such hilarity as:

Said Hamlet to Ophelia,
I'll draw a sketch of thee,
What kind of pencil shall I use?
2B or not 2B?




It's generally a very good Burns night/Scottish Night/ General get-to-gether.....

Obi wan is setting up Star Wars Monopoly:



This provides a good end to the night, all the boys are enjoying living out the fantasy of being Han Solo and all the women are living out the fantasy of being with him...

Once the Bulgarians have headed off home, we pull out some good Scottish Comedy DVD's before heading off to bed:







Paris Tomorrow.......Good Night.......

Friday night preperation

After work I head off to the gym. I have to prepare the scotch broth for the burns supper tomorrow, then it will be a friday night in the gollem.

I'm having a selection of mates round tomorrow to celebrate the scottish tradition of burns suppers.

Wikipedia has this to say:

A Burns Supper is a celebration of the life and poetry of the poet Robert Burns, author of the version of the Scots song Auld Lang Syne, which is generally sung at Hogmanay and other New Year celebrations around the English-speaking world. The suppers are normally held on or near the poet's birthday, January 25, sometimes known as Burns Night, although they may in principle be held at any time of the year.
Burns suppers are most common in Scotland (and also in Russia, where nationally televised Burns nights are held in the Kremlin) but they occur wherever there are Burns clubs, expatriate Scots, or indeed lovers of Burns' poetry.
The first suppers were held in Ayrshire at the end of the 18th century by his friends on the anniversary of his death, July 21, In Memoriam and, although the date has changed to the 25th of January since then, they have been a regular occurrence ever since.
They may be formal or informal but they should always be entertaining. The only items which the informal suppers have in common are haggis, whisky and perhaps a poem or two. However the formal suppers, which are often held by Burns clubs follow a standard format which is as follows.



My dad is an avid burnsian, and I have kept the tradition alive over in Amsterdam with a burns supper last year.

Earlier today I went to the library and selected some tracks for the music. I was trying to keep it scottish without relying on bagpipes, scottish country dancing or teh flower of scotland. The assorted playlist will involve the following albums on shuffle:

wet wet wet:



Proclaimers



Del amitri



Deacon Blue



Mogwai



Jesus and mary chain



Primal scream



The beta band


Franz Ferdinand


Idlewild



The waterboys



After the gym, I get all the shopping done, the menu will be as follows:

Oatcakes and cheese:






Scotch Broth:



Haggis Neeps and Tatties:



Cranachan:



Whisky:



After a few trips to the local Albert Hijn and some industrial vegetable cutting, I can head off to the gollem to join The Kiwi and the boys:



I am pretty chilled due to my two favourite chilling activities; Cooking and exercise. I have a few La Chouffe's:



After what seems like not long, we're heading off to a club called bitterzoet:



I have always hated clubs, the music, the lack of conversation and the focus on looks and clothing just isn't my scene. Luckily the Kiwi isn't in the mood either. We head off together to tackle some KFC before heading home....

Our last hilarity of the night comes when we meet some essex girls in KFC. They do wonders for their regional stereotype by telling me they have scottish friends who are from Cardiff and repeatedly asking The Kiwi to put more shrimps on the barbi....



I'd better get some sleep before the burns supper...

Warm-reekin, rich!

Warm-reekin, rich!
Originally uploaded by furbyx4.