Here’s an invitation Anita and I received to attend a formal, high-fallutin’ Burns Supper. I’m excited to be going, especially now that I’ve been the chairman (what they call the Master of Ceremonies of a Burns supper, as opposed to the host who manages the food, supplies the venue, makes sure the scotch and haggis, the tatties and neeps are in good supply) of my own Supper. We first attended large, formal Burns Suppers overseas before I started wearing kilts or memorizing poems. Knowing more about Scotland’s Bard and his poems will hopefully make this event even more fun and memorable.
Last weekend we bought a Prince Charlie jacket and matching waistcoat and tux shirt from my local kilt store that is, alas, going out of business and selling off stock at a discount. Now I’ll be able to attend the event wearing Highland Evening dress. I remember admiring (read: being jealous of) the men wearing full, formal kilt attire at those very fancy Burns Suppers overseas, attended by wealthy expatriates and far-flung Scots hired by multinational corporations and NGOs. My wife, in an entirely different way, also admired them. Yes, I’ll say it: kilts are sexy. And I’ll also confess that I’m glad to be of the kilt-wearing ranks.
