Waiting for Rabbie

Behind this woman was a trail of people lured in by the pipes. A kilted figure hld between the pillars announcing guests as they arrived. She waited, hoping Rabbie wasn't a no-show.

It's not the best image, but the scene, through a bus window, caught my imagination. Burns night always brings memories of my Dad, dressed as Wee Wullie Winkie or riding out on Meg in Tam O Shanter. I wish there was video footage of him doing his 'turn' at various Burns Suppers. It's 210 years since the first celebration of Burns took place in MacEwan Hall, attended by Mr Walter Scott.

Instead of haggis, we were off to Skua for our scran, a Christmas gift from our girl & beau. Black interior, dim lighting, loud unknown music with a not unpleasant beat, took years off of us (or added them on? I prefer the former). The food excelled, the leek, anchovy, and hazelnut plate with a hidden confit egg yolk was my favourite. For the man, it was between the sea Trout with Taramasalata or the Venison. Another lovely night out and home before 10pm.

My other extra is a result of my failed sourdough starter (too cold), which I left in the jar. I've grown penicillin. I was mesmerised by its composition and found it quite beautiful, if a little disgusting.