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 wordy of a grace
As lang's my arm.
As this is Robert Burns' night in the wonderful fairytale land of the Scots, I should be tucking into Haggis, neeps and tatties right now, but I'm not. Don't get me wrong, I like the minced up inner organs of a sheep, served in a sheep's stomach, as much as the next man, it's just not on the menu tonight.
Well this month is never my favourite, just been going to work and chilling at weekends, no massive long walks have been undertaken and nothing much of note has happened - unless you count the ongoing war between my seagull-obsessed neighbours and myself. It's a bloody joke that the old age mafia leave mountains of food out on a table when there are rats about, but , hey, I'm an easy going guy and am extremely patient....
No new photos taken recently my blog friends, I promise to do better from now on, here a couple from the archive.. a nice one of Seafield Tower just along the coast from me, and the cutest Maltese cat ever.
My birthday on Saturday, please don't spend too much on presents, see you all in the Auld Hoose?
