Haggis Smuggling

I thought I'd woken up on 1st April rather than Burns Day when I came across this article in the Times about otherwise respectable Americans dodging sniffer dogs and $1,000 fines for haggis smuggling. It reminded me of my otherwise respectable father smuggling Lincolnshire pork sausages when we lived abroad and his luggage arriving several days late. I'll leave the rest to the imagination.

The Herald covered the First Ministers online Burns Night Message calling for, amongst other things, reflection on the richness of our culture which is a very sore point . Usually I migrate to Glasgow in January for the Celtic Connections winter music festival featuring artists from around the globe alongside Scottish talent. However, due to nursing a couple of cracked ribs and a fractured pelvis after launching myself off a Scottish 'hill' at 50-60 mph I'm missing out this year.

Alex Salmond also announced a bid to put the poet's face on Bank of England banknotes and this makes me feel quite smug as my real name already appears on the back of a Scottish banknote.

Anyway my Burns celebration tonight will be a supper of spaghetti Bolognese, drooling over the rather fine Scotch someone gave to my son for his 21st birthday and listening to Glaswegian Sanjeev Kohli's 'Ode to a Samosa' that bares resemblance to the work of another Scottish bard, William McGonigle.

"Wee sleekit, cowrin' triangular tastie, oh what a picnic is in thy pastry."