gsoup:
StrangeMagic: I refuse to eat Haggis !
sorry but it even sounds nasty!
-G
Actually G,it doesn't.
Allow me to expand.(this is not an invitation to let me keep eating ferero rocher until I burst)
Last Autumn(that I believe,is known as "Fall" in the colonies) whilst with a party of chums in Ardnamurchan,where Daddy keeps an Island or two,we thought it quite the Jape to venture forth into the wilderness in search of wild wee beasties,armed with nothing less than we would need in the way of shotguns and four wheel drive behemoths.
Unfortunately Lambert Forbad our planned visit to Maryhill,and suggested we head to the hills instead.
So there we were,our amusing little party,all togged out in plus fours and tweed,looking quite the part and I must say,ever so brave and hardy,ready to take on whatever rare challenge Scotchland had to throw in our way.We had heard of the famous Loch Lomond Bear,and of course 'Nessie,and to top it orf,there was every chance we might bag a local or two.We set out into the unknown,just the fourset of us,a little tremorous,given the raggedy tales we had told by candlelight the eve afore.
Oh! how brave we looked.Setting out on a forest track,all alone,in the wildest country known to man(except of course for Maryhill).Step by laborious step,we inched up the hillside,my skirts catching every twig,my feet slipping in this ancient soil,hampered no little bit by the servants,led by Lambert(rather unsteadily) who was followed by Cook and four of the kitchen staff,with the two handmaidens bringing up the querelous rear,weighed down with the baggage which contained Sophie and my changes for the day.
Of course McBarret,Daddys scotch Driver had to tag along too,creeping slowly behind,keeping his wheels clean on the four by four by driving with all wheels on the kerbs,and sometimes the odd native or two.Just in front of him were our nags,led by some scotch lads who were every bit the blacksmith in dour demeanour,but looked like they could be some sport if we failed to shoot anything.
Daddy and Uncle Roger kept flying past above in the Cessna,he said it was only to test out the new sea landing gear,but I rather think he was trying to keep an eye on us.
Well,two hours found us almost dead from starvation,and so we had to shoo off some Johnny foriegners with many cameras who had taken all the room up on some jolly looking rustic seating arrangement that we found amid the rarified airs,we were so high up that we could almost see over the top of a metal bar with some ancient Gaellic scrawl upon it,indicating something to do with a six foot six headroom.
Sophie was quite the girl at this,thinking no doubt that the inhabitants of this strange land were so scarily tall,she was on the point of tears,and it was only my timely reminder that not only were they tall,but they were also to a man ginger haired,and wore skirts to boot,which finally put her to a faint,and saved her the horrors that were to follow.
We managed a rapid repaste,my remaining friends and I,the three of us in solitude as the serving staff saw to it that we managed a meagre but filling meal of jugged hare,vichie sois,canned pemmican and some rather fanciable grog.Of course my two male companions took cigars under the makeshift shade arrangements fashioned by the staff for their comfort,whilst I withdrew to an Al Fresco,but rather delightful parlour,where I was witness to the very agreeable sight of the stable lads re shoeing one of the thoroughbreds.My my,how their rippling muscles shone in the balmy afternoon sun.
I suppose I ought really to get back to the story,but I would like to dally a while on the thought above...
Right!I'm back now.Gosh,who would have thought in just ten minutes that a girl could,oh nevermind,onward and upward.
We had to wait an age while the luncheon arrangement was packed and stowed,amid much tribulation since quite a bit of it seemed to be missing,which was strange because we were simply miles and miles away from Glasgow.
Anyhoo,it was later in the day,much later,after we had unnanimously decided to forego the pleasures of footwork,and taken daddy up on his offer of a seat in The Cessna,which dropped us owf a tidy distance up the glen(A local term used to describe a bit of a dip between the hills,very quaint and yet so emotive) where we disembarked and set about our quest.
It didnt take us long to flush out our quarry.Our beaters did a magnificent job,and earned their tip mightily.Of a sudden,right in the middle of a spiffing shoot,we heard an awful todoo in the rhodedendron bushes above us.To me,the squawks and raucous hoots mons,and awaewiye,and gettife ye basta's sounded eerirly reminiscent of an earlier occurence back at the parlour,but I was unequivically told that this was,indeed,the sound of haggis mating.
I have to say I found it strange that Haggis would choose to mate in a burned out hulk of a Ford mondeo,but mate they did,for I was to see with my very own eyes,the way the old automobile shook and shivered to the passionate doings within.I swear i saw a mop of ginger through one cracked and smoke smeared window too,but maybe I am mistook.
My point then is Gsoup,that Haggis did not in fact ,sound too bad at all,by my finely tuned ear,and indeed sounded rather familiar,in a funny sort of way.
Lizzie