The Bard

Well if he was still alive he would be 253 years old today, and a huge tourist attraction but unfortunately he isnt, I'm talking of course about Scotlands favourite son Robbie Burns. I'm a bit of a poet myself not that youd know it. Ok less groaning up the back there and sit up straight.

I would quite happily have haggis neaps and tatties for dinner but a. cant get haggis here b. Angie would whinge so I shall just make mince neaps and tatties and have a wee dram and toast the mince. My favorite Burns poem is about a mouse whos nest was exposed by a farmer ploughing his feild the first verse goes,

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murdering pattle.

My Korean friend Andrew who I havent heard from in years would translate this as

Creeping, cowering, afraid animal,
Why are you panicking,
You dont need to run away,
screaming,
as I wouldnt chase you,
and utter murderous comments.

It doesnt have the same ring ehh.
According to my weather station we have had 4.2 mm rain overnight and 26.1 mm since I installed the machine on the 15th. Its not unheard of to have 10mm rain in an hour in the tropics but my 26.1 mm seems to have taken 10 days of drizzle.

Today I shall do some more ceiling crack filling, listen to some loud music and recite dirges to myself in an attempt to ward off boredom.