Haggis, Neeps and tatties

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' yet tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o'a grace
As lang's my arm.

To any Scot out there those words will be very familiar as the opening verse of To A Haggis by Robert Burns – the national poet of Scotland.  On the 25^th of January each year throughout the world his birthday is celebrated with a Burns Supper.  This is a night where we celebrate the works of the great man, reflect on his life, drink a toast to his name in whiskey and have the traditional meal of Haggis, Neeps and Tatties.

Friday night's feast on a classy paper plate

In Freetown this year I took on the responsibility of organising a celebration, so on Friday evening 28 of us  (ranging from 24 – 45 (guess who!)) sat down to that traditional meal.  Where did you find haggis and neeps in Sierra Leone I hear you ask?  Well,  they were sourced in the UK and made their way here in my luggage and that of a friend.  In January I brought back 3 haggis and 2 neeps which were stored in Ed’s freezer for 3 weeks.  Jude also brought a haggis and found someone else to bring another 3 neeps – the sad news was then that Jude was dispatched to Malawi and missed a great night.

It must be said that this was not the most formal of Burns Suppers.  Michelle, a fellow Scot from Fife did the address , Paul provided some bagpipe music, I did an immortal memory, Gareth provided a large bottle of Balvenie and Laura instigated a Strip the Willow at the end of the evening despite a distinct lack of ceilidh music.  All this enormously enjoyed by everyone.

Michelle in full flow

 Next piece of party planning?  A ceilidh I think!