Friday, 24 February 2012

Eat yer parritch and wait for juistice!

Still lacking a camera, and worried lest my wide-eyed 1850s adolescents should get it into their heads that they own this place, I have produced something different, which happens to cover much of this blog's subject matter in a oner.

Recipe sonnet: a Scottish literary breakfast treat, as made in Scotland according to the traditional and sustainable method by craftsmen who care

A gnawing sense of guilt you can’t explain;
A mind tied up in dualistic twists;
Ancestral homes forever lost in mists;
A Gaelic air on lovers, drowning, pain;
Some nettle-water; tot of whisky; peat
Fresh taken from some Covenanter’s marsh,
A wild-eyed fear of Heaven’s judgment (harsh…).
Mix these ingredients on a medium heat
In equal parts, however much you need -
In this (one!) case, you needn’t be exact -
The oats must go in gradually, throughout.
Best sert wi sapsie Lallans bittocks, dried,
And with a jar of firm, grim faith in fact
(For best effect, include a nagging doubt).


This sonnet produced on behalf of VisitScotland with funds from the Scottish government. They paid for me to attend university, and as you can clearly see it was an obviously worthwhile investment.

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