Burns Supper Stow February 2014, guest post by Ruth

Jo and Francois wanted to film one of our knitters at a Burns Supper. (No, not knitting a Burns Supper! Not even knitting at a Burn Supper.) Just having fun at a Burns Supper. And such is their charm, Ruth organised one. Here’s her wee blog about it.

 

'And loud resounded mirth and dancing'

Jo and Francois staked their cameras out in the corner of the room.

Fourteen of us squashed ourselves around the table: cock a leekie soup was passed around. The Selkirk Grace was said just in time, as spoons were advancing on hungry mouths.

Odd sounds were heard … a goose was mentioned, but it was just young Corrie tuning up his pipes. 

The haggis 'great chieftain o' the puddin' race', after bouncing merrily in the pot for a good hour and a half had seen fit to burst its britches just before I captured it.  The result was a slightly deflated looking beast which didn't quite gush as it was supposed to when the rustic knife was set in motion to 'trench its gushing entrails bright.' But the piping in, to the tune of a Man's a Man, was performed with great skill by Corrie (son of Rory Campbell of Old Blind Dogs fame and grandson of piper and singer Roddy Campbell from Barra.)

Our 'swollen bellies' at this stage being ' bent like drums' it seemed prudent to delay the approach of the desert course, thus providing an opportune moment for 'The Immortal Memory.'

John showed us the relevance of Burn’s words to the 21^st C. His concern for the environment  'truly sorry man's dominion has broken nature's social union' and the hypocrisy of religious practitioners in 'Holy Willie's Prayer', then, of course, our symbol of love itself. The red rose comes straight from 'My Love is like a red, red rose.'

 

There’s even relevance to the referendum - prior to Burns time the Darien scheme collapsed and caused a cash crisis in Scotland among landed gentry. Some members of the Scottish Parliament were bribed by English gold and others were promised the earth if they voted for the Act of Union. Nearly a hundred years after the events the bitterness is still there in Burn's words ' English gold has been our bane -  such a parcel o' rogues in a nation'

With the Olympic games in full swing, Burns has already written a suitable anthem for the whole world in 'A Man's a Man’… 'That man to man the world o’er shall brothers be for a' that.'

  He was a man before his time!

 

Well... suitably impressed by the wisdom of Robert Burns and given much food for thought by John we were ready to loosen our belts and return to food for the belly.

For pudding we had cranachan, or as an alternative, a beast not dissimilar to a haggis, which claimed the ancient name of 'clootie dumplin'.  This beast was unsure whether it was a cold blooded creature or required warming. Its first cousin must have been the figgy pudding as it demanded a drenching of whisky, but then spurned the match engaged to set it alight. And there was none of this either/or nonsense... the clootie was very definitely the fourth course. 

 We were entertained with a speech to the lassies (of which, like Burns, Ali declared he was very fond).  His wife, daughters and granddaughters were top of the list, followed by all the special ladies of his past, including singers, actors, politicians (not Maggie Thatcher!) He reeled off the attributes of the women he admired, making note that you wouldn't find them in a dame 'Gathering her brows like gathering storm, nursing her wrath to keep it warm'.
He then sang, chanted and capered – with much 'blethering and blustering' –  and finished by taking the toast to the lassies literally as he presented each with a piece of dry toast from his sporran. 

 Though this was the first Burns Supper Diana had ever been to, she replied, in a very well measured speech, on behalf of the lassies. Burns wasn’t high on equality for women. He could be bitter in his attacks on women he didn't like, fathered many children and only married when it suited him.  But he also praised women greatly (those whom he was attracted to).

 The evening continued with wit, song, music, dancing… and even a bit of poetry. Katie read To a Mouse and the mouse replied with 'Tae a Scruff’: 'Deil kens, ye're naethin but a reuch, Ye screivin doddie.'

 We had Burns’ songs, blues songs and even French songs (from Jo and Francois, camera long since abandoned); melodeons, whistles, guitars, drums, clapping of hands and tapping of feet. Nick did as Nick does:

 'Auld Nick...

Tae gie them music was his charge:

He screw'd the pipes (melodeon) and gart them skirl.

Till roof and rafters a' did dirl'

 Eventually the night ended ...

 

'Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
And never brought to mind? 
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
And auld lang syne!'