Burns Balls

Shattered. Defeated. Flattened. That goes some way to describing me after the whirlwind of two Burns Nights. I'm cook, musician, actor, choreographer and poetry reciter. Table mover, stage constructor, driver, welcome host, translator (try doing 18th century Scots in Czech), sound engineer, dish washer and floor sweeper. Two days in a row, with a month's preparation beforehand to boot. I wouldn't care if I didn't see another haggis ever. Liberec one day, Prague the next. Catering in all for about 450 hungry Czechs, rich and poor, Scotophiles and philistines. But we did it, the speakers were eloquent, the dancers did us proud, the piper huffed and puffed, the whisky tasting corner was under constant fire, the bar staff pulled vast quantities of beer and the band played with particular panache, which privately pleased. That's it for another year, apart from a wee Burns do at the BIS (British International School) in Prague in a couple of weeks for a selection of diplomatic and executive parents. Fair fa' your honest sonsie face!

Great chieftain o' the puddin' race

Anyone would think it was approaching the end end of winter - temperatures above zero, all the snow going, pretty pics of Helen, etc. But no, the weatherman, the teller of tomorrow's woes, has foretold ice and gales, drifting snow and hot toddies all round. The garden, when revealed untimely in this season, looks bereft and dirty, last year's growth wet-flattened to the still-frozen ground, knowing there's more to come. Trees droop, unwilling to look skywards and the sky weighs down heavily with low over-pregnant cloud. Frequently this area is subject to inversion - where the cold air gets trapped in the valleys with mist and smog. We are, on the whole, above this and experience glorious freezing sunny mornings and are surprised to descend into the grubby town below. But now this phenomenon is intensified by the warmer air temperatures and the frozen ground, so we are in the cloud now too. It's dim all day, lights are needed and though it's not cold, the wet seeps in through the pores in our old wooden house, making for unhealthy air. I combated the ensuing lethargy by digging a drain across the sodden garden in an attempt to divert the dirty melt-water from my neighbour's beautiful manicured lawn.

Work's boring (should never admit to that I know) but little Mr Bean is growing happily inside his warm moist den. I say 'he' because the gynaecologist suggested there was an 80% chance 'it' is a Boy. Not much in terms of Boy to see yet but there's a head, arms, hands, fingers (even finger nails! - what for at 13 weeks?), legs, feet, toes, most organs and he's peeing and pooing too. How and where we were not told. Perhaps that's why Bara's feeling particularly under the weather this last few weeks. 26 July is the first date we've been given, but we'll probably not do that and take 1 August instead (like Daddy).

Tomorrow's Monday (again!?) with all that that entails. This week there'll be the monthly 400 adverts to translate into English (for a magazine - monthly work, 21st - 22nd) and our Burns Night on Friday (and Saturday in Prague). The Brno Burns Night was apparently a great success, not least because they had a fair portion of our Extra Special Hand Produced Gourmet Haggis.
Went to Germany yesterday - we strangely don't need to stop at the border any more - to buy turnips. Got 4 for 4EUR. Damnably expensive.
For a turnip.

SHTS (Satelite Haggis Tracking System)

Just returned home from a mammoth 24hr haggismaking stunt. It's a thing we do once in a while, crazily boiling, chopping and simmering large amounts of sheep's innards. This time it was a relatively modest amount at 57kg (the most we ever made at one go was 145kg two years ago for the local Highland Games). Some will stay here for the Burns Night (a great event - more later) in a couple of weeks, but most goes to Prague and Brno. Our haggis is renowned throughout this land and has been enjoyed even by Her Excellency in Prague.

It'll be that time of year again soon. Yum yum.

By popular request it's time to enter a new entry. After an inspired start I've kind of lost the thread recently. I expect it'll come in waves.

New things are coming fast and furiously. Santa Clause left a cryptic black and white radar image under the Christmas Tree showing what suspiciously looked like a flying banana on a black background. Little Miss or Master Edwards No 3 is to arrive about the beginning of August (just like his Daddy did - clever little thing). It's nice for many reasons, not least of which is that it is over 100 years since any baby lived in this old house of ours.

New Year came and went with Bangs both Champagned and fireworked. And in a drunken moment I made the last ever (by no means not the first) decision to quit ye olde tobacco. Not as much fun as one might have expected, but I've managed so far. Now I've got so much time on my hands, sitting about between lessons not quite knowing what to do when previously the weed perfectly filled the gap. Pockets are strangely empty of the tools of the trade, matches (never liked lighters), cig boxes, tobacco pouch, filters, papers, etc. Found myself carrying old keys instead for reassurance. But I WILL NOT be bothered with middle class poncy nicotine patches or artificial plastic cigarettes. If you stop, you stop. The End.

We'll see. Send me some power to slake my new thirst and put a hold on the appetite, or I might just inadvertently explode.