I wasn't able to attend the Nor Cal Rabble Burns Night this year, to my big disappointment. However, good friend and fellow Masters throwers, Marty and Garry Nichols invited me to their family shindig, which is QUITE a bit different from the Nor Cal bash. It's held in their brothers house, and we packed in about 35 people, between the various rooms. It's NOT, emphatically NOT a "formal occasion" but it sure was fun!
Garret gets ready to pipe in the Haggis!
...and then gives us a little concert...
Marty does the Address to the Haggis, while his third brother, our host, slices and dices!
The Haggis meets it's sorry end, warm, reekin', rich!
Last edited by Alan H; 30th January 12 at 12:12 AM.
Marty and his daughter, Riley, with the psychedelic sox she scored off of the guy who gave the Ode to the Lasses. You may not like his sportcoat with his Sport Kilt, but you know what? Marty cooked most of the dinner, gave the Address, gave the Immortal Memory and generally made the whole thing happen. To me, that counts more than whether or not his jacket is the "proper style" or not. Rest assured, NOBODY at the dinner cared a hoot.
Garry, Cat and friends take in Marty's rendition of "Andrew and his cutty-gun", which is one of those pieces by Burns that isn't found in the usual "Collected Works"...however, should you acquire a copy of "The Merry Muses of Caledonia" you'll find out what this song is all about!
What a *great* night and miracle of miracles, Mrs. Alan H actually wore her Blue Dress Stewart tartan skirt.
Last edited by Alan H; 30th January 12 at 12:35 AM.
Dear bonnie lasses of Scotland
Trust us when we say that we love you dearly
even though our purses are smaller than yours
and we're always bothering you for a pen or chapstick or a tape measure. We know how annoying it is!
Forgive us when we reach in there...
…it's SO Awkward....rumble around for a while and then turn to you for help.
Please forgive us when we spend more time worrying about our hemline length than you do.
---NOT that hemline length is THAT important!
…Compared to the color, or the cable pattern knit into your sox, you know?
.....speaking of kilt sox...
There was a sweet lass from Santa Cruz
Who was dapper, from her bonnet to her shoes.
Though her judgement lapsed slightly
when her hose fit too tightly
and her new ones are psychedelic blue! ---- hold up wild knees sox from Target
Dear bonnie lasses of America
Trust us when we say that you are beyond value to us...and we're sorry if the cookie jar money gets spent on a new sporran
....or a new throwing weight... or yet another dead tree...
...........or a new rock............... (hold up 16 pound open stone)
--and not that new all stainless-steel kitchen that's been on the remodeling list for a decade, or the new model Jaguar convertible that you've been wanting.
There was a sweet lass from Menlo Park
Whose husband threw big things, on a lark.
He's big and he's stinky
deadlifts 600 Pounds with his pinky
and he lives on neeps and tatties and Highland Park! **hold up half-empty bottle of whisky**
Oh, and speaking of whisky....
Right. Never mind.
Dear bonnie lasses of California:
We know that sometimes we don't show you how much you mean to us, and we're sorry for....
---the weekends spent on the road with the guys traveling to faraway Highland Games ....
---Aboriginal rites surrounding primitive activities masquerading as "cultural athletics" which we engage in with guys who are even bigger, stinkier and more Neanderthal than we are
.........(if that is even possible)
Or for you non-athletes, perhaps you recognize this famous quote at the Games..."Honey, I'll be right back".
Which translated means ….."after I watch the big guys throw caber, visit the clan tent, sign up for whisky-tasting AND order a new tweed jacket."
So while you're admiring that pretty clan sash
I'm off, enhancing my own tartan stash.
And when I return
it's only money that I've burned
Oh, you'll take it out, on my own tartan..... *point to hindquarters*
Dear bonnie lasses here, tonight:
You are blessed to recognize that your lads and this whole Scottish and kilt thing, despite it all ... DOES have some redeeming features.
--Old kilts make really good padding for dishes stored in the attic, for example.
--Our whisky collection can be used to start the barbeque!!!!
---It used to be that if we couldn't find something and came whining to you about it, it was a nuisance to find it. NOW, you just say..."Honey, which sporran did you wear yesterday?"
--It used to be hard to decide what to wear when going out to some function with your man. NOW...you know that no matter WHAT you choose to wear, there is no way you're going to look one tenth as ridiculous as your man in a plaid skirt with knee sox! ………….and if he’s REALLY traditional…with MARY JANES!
It's so...so....so FREEING.
And so, in conclusion, let me say
It's to you, our lasses so bonnie
We owe all; every Marty, Doug, and Johnnie.
Though the kilt is our sin
IT COULD BE WORSE...listen in... I just bought a caftan, from Azerbaijani!
Last edited by Alan H; 30th January 12 at 01:13 AM.
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