{"id":15799,"date":"2020-01-25T00:01:17","date_gmt":"2020-01-25T05:01:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/melanierobertson-king.com\/wp02\/?p=15799"},"modified":"2020-01-22T12:31:32","modified_gmt":"2020-01-22T17:31:32","slug":"robbie-burns-day-house-king-style-2-2-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/melanierobertson-king.com\/wp02\/?p=15799","title":{"rendered":"The Selkirk Grace … Some hae meat … #BurnsSupper"},"content":{"rendered":"

All Burns Suppers<\/a> begin with the Selkirk Grace:<\/p>\n

Some hae meat and canna eat,
\nAnd some wad eat that want it;
\nBut we hae meat, and we can eat,
\nAnd sae the Lord be thankit<\/p>\n

What better place to celebrate the life of Scottish Bard, Robbie Burns, than in a tartan chair in front of a crackling, wood fire.<\/p>\n

\"tartan<\/p>\n

Once again, I’ve had my head down working on my next novella. If you go by word length, it does qualify as a full-fledged novel, but that’s neither here nor there.<\/p>\n

Here’s a portrait of the bard … a handsome fellow, don’t you think?<\/p>\n

\"Selkirk<\/a>
\nJanuary 25, 1759 – July 21, 1796<\/h2>\n

I\u2019ll summon my manservant, Donald (the Red), to bring us some refreshments.<\/p>\n

\"Selkirk<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"whisky\"
By Chris huh (Own work) [GFDL (http:\/\/www.gnu.org\/copyleft\/fdl.html) or CC BY-SA 4.0-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (http:\/\/creativecommons.org\/licenses\/by-sa\/4.0-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0)], via Wikimedia Commons<\/figcaption><\/figure>Some of the selection of whiskies on hand to toast the bard. I also have a special edition Cardhu, 18-year-old Cardhu (not available in Canada), and Oban on hand should these not whet your tastebuds.<\/p>\n

We can have cheese and oakcakes with our drams. That way we’re not too tipsy before the feast. Will you celebrate the bard today with haggis, champit tatties and bashed neeps?<\/p>\n

(swish of swinging door as the manservant returns with a tray carrying a decanter of whisky \u2013 18-year-old Cardhu no less, two glasses and water). \u201cYour whisky, my lady,\u201d he says as he places it on the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

As the manservant straightens to leave, I cry out\u2026 \u201cDonald, where\u2019s your trousers?\u201d because so unlike him, he\u2019s wearing a kilt!<\/p>\n