Shouldn't Northumberland (beautiful region) not be in Scotland (See Hadrian's Wall).
notice how shetland isn't in the right place on that map ?
Scotland has passed a law banning putting shetland in a map box like that
Shouldn't Northumberland (beautiful region) not be in Scotland (See Hadrian's Wall).
notice how shetland isn't in the right place on that map ?
Scotland has passed a law banning putting shetland in a map box like that
that's a double negative!Shouldn't Northumberland (beautiful region) not be in Scotland (See Hadrian's Wall).
Sorry, I have been listening to Boris Johnson.that's a double negative!Shouldn't Northumberland (beautiful region) not be in Scotland (See Hadrian's Wall).
Dux magnus gentis venteris saginati?anyone know what he is accused of doing?
That's the kind of thing you excel at, i.e. gleaning such background information.Former Scottish First Minister Alex Salmond arrested
anyone know what he is accused of doing?
I did once have the pleasure of a meal of haggis along with a dramatic reading of this poem at Gleneagles. Did I mention the Scotch that was served alongside?Address to a Haggis
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 worthy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o need,
While thro your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An cut you up wi ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
'Bethankit' hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi perfect scunner,
Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll make it whissle;
An legs an arms, an heads will sned,
Like taps o thrissle.
Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies:
But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,
Gie her a Haggis
It was good, but a problem with too much of a good thing is recalling what it actually was. My best guess is a Glenfiddich. Also, in this case it was a corporate boondoggle some 25 years ago. Since we are in the OT, I'll share a true story from breakfast the following morning. An admin from our London office sits down at my table rather heavily, and the first words out of her mouth was "me poor pussy!". Turns out that this was the first time she was spending a night away from her cat, who was left alone in her flat.Did I mention the Scotch that was served alongside?
no, go on, tell us Single malt?
Gleneagles
chic