Happy Burns Day!


Today is the anniversary of one of the most famous Scottish exports (no, not whiskey or the Loch Ness monster!), the poet Robert Burns. He did an awful lot of things, good and bad, in his 37 years on this Earth. Somewhere in Ayrshire, where he was born, probably at the Burns Cottage museum but I’m not going to go check because it is Monday morning), they have a window from a pub where, instead of just paying his bar tab, he wrote a poem on the window using his diamond ring. Fancy poet living large!

This morning I read “Tam O’Shanter” with my kid — nothing like trying to not explain people who are “fou for weeks thegither!” (drunk!) at breakfast. Or the dancing with the devil. But she loves the part about his gray mare, Meg.

Hope you can help celebrate Robert Burns’s 257th birthday by writing a poem, reading a poem, sending a letter, reading a letter, writing a book, reading a book. And, if it’s your thing, have a wee bit whiskey with your oatcakes and haggis th’ night.

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