Burn's Night, and rat boxing

We were out last night.
(Well, actually it was the night before, but I have been slow in getting this blog posted!)

Anyway, ....good company, good food, and good wine
 (although I didn't drink any but it looked top notch judging by the merriment of all present by the end of the evening. I wish I could drink but it offends my internal plumbing system. It is a bit depressing when all around are getting happier by the glassful and I am getting more and more in need of my bed as the evening goes on!)

 

Borrowed from Wikipedia:

'A Burns supper is a celebration of the life and poetry of the poet Robert Burns, author of many Scottish poems. The suppers are normally held on or near the poet's birthday, 25 January.....'

 

So that is where we were, at a Burns Night, and being fed the traditional food of:

fish soup, followed by mashed potato, mashed swede, carrots, and haggis.

Cheese and biscuits to follow (not sure if this is 'traditional Scots')

Last was a dessert of raspberries and cream (definitely not traditional!)

 

And Lester and I played music during the evening (accordion, violin, and mandolin),

with friend Mike on the guitar, John (host), (whistle, harmonica, and upturned flower pot drum.)

It was a fun evening, and one to be remembered with fondness, especially because I was able to contribute something to the evening by playing music. I am always happier when I am contributing. I tend not to be so comfortable at events which require of me just social chatter and, if possible, will go sit in a quiet place and watch everyone else chatting.
I find people watching a fascinating occupation.

 

****

 

There was this rat.

Move, it did not want to.

Oh dear!

 

Lissie, 

 she did not approve of the rat's attitude,

brought down her horns to ram the rat.

The rat stood up on hind legs,

and boxed away those horns.

 

Lissie swept her horns from side to side,

wishing oh so very much to impale that rat,

who had ventured into her living accommodation,

for which she was not happy.

 

Lester to the rescue.

With milking bucket in hand

he did swipe at the rat.

The rat toppled over.

Stunned.

Another swipe.

And then a new home found,

which was in the woods,

so that the body of the newly deceased

could return to the natural juices of nature.

 

Another rat down.

One less to romp over Lissie while she sleeps.

One less to run around Lester while he milks.

 So, this skirmish was won by the Home Team.
No doubt that there will be plenty more opportunities to do battle.
 

******

Everyone is outside today.
The sun is shining, and Spring seems to be arriving well ahead of when it should.
The only two left inside are me and Boolie,
Bools because he is always no more than a half a metre away from my side,
and me because of house jobs.
I was going to carry on with cutting the brambles down,
but didn't, because I had a nap instead,
which was a glorious chunk of sleep,
which was fractured only by a loud whirring noise,
which alarmed me somewhat, as I thought that the washing machine was about to spin itself silly,
this thought then being replaced by one which centred on very low flying jets,
an alarming thought, as my mind grazed over the possibility of having our new chimney pots damaged by low flying aircraft.
 Well the noise was loud and sounded very close, and I was fugged up with sleep.

But no, none of these things,
just Lester getting another huge bail of hay in to the Courtyard,
assisted by the might of his old tractor.
I was not needed this time.
Which was a good thing.
Because I was sleeping, or trying to!

As for Bools,
he is still being high spirited,
bless him.

Off to walk him now and get the last rays of sunshine.
Tomorrow I will get some time outside,
even if it is to sit on the front door step and do some spinning!

Bye for now.

Vx