Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang's my arm.
A wee nod in the direction of Robert Burns born this day in 1759. Having had our haggis with the children earlier we will raise a dram in his direction once I am home from the PTA meeting and Garret from transporting the children to and from Karate, which is held in the coldest hut ever in Loch Awe village. What a fascinating and busy social life we lead!
I am aching after a rigorous workout (pyramid running for those in the know..a discipline quite obviously developed by a totally sadistic PE teacher) last night with the Lochgilphead jogscotland group led by my running/swimming/ partner-in-crime Lizzie (more of her another day). Living out in the sticks it was a novelty to me to run by night amply lit by street lights….the wonders of modern science.
Highlights of the day included helping Rosie (see picture)with her “Haggis” project (of course) and washing out the compost bin. Hey, it might not be top of your list of top ten best points of the day but everything is relative. It sure beat trying to muck out the small space by the side of Freya’s bed, which has not been visible to me since she erected a small curtain around the bed to ensure privacy.
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