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His colour sicken'd more and more
chap
nmg

Now that I seem to be adoptive Scot by virtue of marriage, I now feel obliged to take note of those dates in the Scottish calendar that those of us raised south of the border are by birth inclined to ignore. Tonight is Burns Night, being the 245th anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns.

Tomorrow night, the library are having their Burns supper, at which ias will be giving her first Immortal Memory (I suspect much to the pride of her grandfather, who has given her his thoughts for a new address on Burns-as-revolutionary-figure), and for which I've spent the past hour making tablet.

This is a bit of a first for me, since I've never made fudge before. It also means that I get to test drive the sugar thermometer that I got ias for Christmas (romantic, moi?), and get first dibs on the warm scrapings of the bowl. Unfortunately, these are rather prolonged first dibs, since she's off doing drop-in surgery until 8pm (she's on duty this weekend), so I'm now feeling more than a little hyperactive and sick. Ah well. At least it tastes good.


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Ooh, I love tablet. Mm-mm-mm.

This time last year I held me own Burns' supper, but for reasons of massive weekend partying, I've not been able to do so again this year. Shame, that.

I like tablet too, but I probably shouldn't be left with the scrapings from the bowl again.


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