Last night we hosted a rollicking, whisky-fuelled Burns Supper in TriBeCa. As the nether regions of New York City appear to be particularly devoid of Haggis-es (yes, that’s the plural of “Haggis” in my book), we nominated one of my owner’s friends, yes indeed a human being, to represent the Haggis. Per tradition, the order of ceremonies was as follows: (1) A welcome speech from the host (2) the addressing of the haggis (we toasted the ‘honorary haggis’ with Glenmorangie 12) (3) A toast of the lassies and (4) a reply to the ‘toast of the lassies’. Fine, for you Gen Y-ers for whom none of this makes any sense, you can learn more about the Burns Supper tradition, here. The main point though, is that it was riotous fun.
Anyway, we slept off the whisky, but awoke to the above scene. Now we have to go to a wedding at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens … it’s going to be very, beary, frigid. Promise we’ll bring back some pics. It’s 10am, but I for one, need a drink.