Be happy while yer livin', for yer a long time deid'

So goes the old Scottish proverb

Photo by Lucrezia Carnelos on Unsplash

I have always envied the Scots for their strong sense of identity. They have a direct way of saying things that pretty much sum up the moment - hence the title of my essay this week. The distinctiveness of this Celtic race can be seen in the tartans, the tribalism and the dialects, and then there is the writing, the music and the dancing.

Many young people in Scotland still learn traditional country dance at school as it is very much part of the social fabric of their culture whatever their age. So too do they learn to sing and to play traditional instruments – accordion, fiddle, bagpipes, tin whistle, bodhrán, concertina - and they gather together regularly for festivals, or in local pubs and clubs to share their talents for anyone who cares to listen.

Whenever I travel north of the border, I always try to make at least one visit to a good music pub. The evening can start with one or two musicians playing quietly but as the night wears on, more arrive, unpack their instruments and join in seamlessly - they rarely read sheet music, they just know the tunes – and things can get pretty lively.

If you ever get a chance to go to a ceilidh, accept immediately! It’s great fun and there is nothing quite as effective at cheering the heart and soul as whirling around a room with dozens of others to Strip The Willow or The Eightsome Reel. To really enjoy it, I’d advise some tuition from someone practised – or you can watch videos on Youtube: the whole thing becomes a shambles if even one or two people don’t really know what they’re doing!

One of the most entertaining occasions of the Scottish calendar is Burns’ Night on 25^th January when tradition celebrates the birthday of the Scottish bard, Robert “Rabbie” Burns. Burns was a colourful character, a drinker and a womaniser who fathered 12 or 13 children (or it could have been more) by several different women. He died relatively young, at 37, (he’d probably exhausted himself!) but he was a prolific poet and lyricist and already celebrated for his writing in both Scots and English aged 27. He is considered the national poet of Scotland.

The first Burns’ night supper was organised in 1802, six years after his death, as a memorial, by friends and family of the poet, but the occasion has become an annual event for Scots wherever they live: these days Burns’ Night is celebrated all over the world from Tasmania to Russia, Canada to Kazakhstan, and even many English honour the date, for it is basically an excuse for a good old shindig.

This year’s Burns’ Night was last Thursday and as is his wont, my (Scottish) husband became maudlin, sang along with mournful Scottish songs about being far away from his homeland and drank several drams of whisky (he has many to choose from), to toast his departed family and friends.

Friday evening was a much more cheerful affair, for we attended a Burns’ Supper. Wherever it takes place, everything about this event is preordained to follow a set routine. First, the host issues a welcome and one of guests is invited to say the Selkirk Grace. My husband had the honour of doing so at our supper. Burns is often credited with writing the Selkirk Grace, but it is known to have been in circulation before he made it popular:

“Some hae meat and canna eat,

Some wad eat that want it:

But we hae meat and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be thankit”

Then, with great ceremony, a piper plays to welcome the star of the event, the haggis, as it is borne into the gathering on a silver salver by the cook, while the assembled guests perform a standing, slow hand-clap. If it seems an unusual eminence to award to a fairly humble dish of minced sheep’s heart, liver, and lungs with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, salt and stock, encased in the animal's stomach, it becomes even more strange when the host addresses the haggis directly, in the famous words of Rabbie Burns:

“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”.

There are eight more verses that are even more difficult for non-Scots to understand, and recitation of the poem should be accompanied by much drama, miming and action especially when a knife is plunged several times into the haggis.

Everyone toasts the haggis and then dinner is served: sometimes there’s a starter of Cock-a-leekie or Cullen Skink soup, this is followed by haggis, mashed neeps (swedes) and tatties (potatoes) and, often, a pudding of Cranachan, a traditional Scottish desert made with oatmeal, raspberries, whisky, honey and cream,. You can drink whatever you want, so long as its whisky!

Then there are the traditional speeches. By this stage a fair amount of whisky (or your alternative of choice) has usually been consumed, which allows guests to fully enter into the spirt of “The Toast to the Lassies” given by a male guest and the response, “A Reply from the Lassies” by a female guest. These are usually written in rhyme and are a great opportunity for hilarity, innuendo and raucousness from all concerned.

After dinner, everyone crosses hands with their table guests and sings Auld Lang Syne – yes, it’s the one other time in the year it is traditionally sung apart from New Year’s Eve – and the evening draws to a close.

Our Burns Night on Friday didn’t deviate from the traditions much (the starter was smoked salmon and there was a bit of disco dancing at the end). My husband donned full regalia: jacket and waistcoat, kilt and matching tie in Weathered Macleod tartan (a muted version of the more common MacLeod tartans), sporran, woollen knee socks with tartan kilt flashes and Sgian Dubh (black dagger) tucked down his sock.

My outfit is a simple black skater dress with a sash in the Weathered MacLeod tartan, held in place with a pewter brooch showing the MacLeod motto, “Hold fast”.  I look the part. Even if I am not truly Scottish, and instead a “mongrel” from Northern Ireland, marrying a Scot has allowed me to fully participate in all the traditions I really enjoy!

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I would love to hear about your Burns’ Night experiences or other traditions that are important to your identity. Please leave a comment and I shall respond

You’re reading Home Truths, a newsletter from me, Susy Smith. I am many things: a parent of grown-up kids, a dog owner, a gardener and a compulsive mover of vases (I worked for years as a stylist). I am also a writer/editor and former Editor-in-Chief of British Country Living Magazine.

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