Burns' Night:

the one night of the year you can absolutely guarantee that someone's going to try to goad/cajole/blackmail me into playing the bagpipes.

And so it came to pass that last Sunday evening the Roquefort Files were enjoying a nicely relaxed Burns Supper along with the rest of the still-recuperating Mafia, courtesy of Annabel and Devon. My sister (a fellow lapsed Scottish musician) promises to play some fiddle tunes if I'll play the pipes. Cue hackles raised, minor self-pitying rant, caving in and finally a lift up the road to pick up my pipes.

As per usual, once I actually played, I enjoyed it. And despite my feigned indignation, it was a top night. The food was staggeringly good and the Mafia were on collective top form: thank heavens for the healing powers of haggis and beer.