I’ll long for Scotland from my lounge,
The purple hills and mirrored lochs
That stretch out further than the mind.
Raise a glass of single malt and sing
In stranger tongues that make no sense
And eat alone but with your friends
On Burns night twenty twenty one.
My dad is part of the Masons and they put on a lot of social events to raise money for local charities. One of the big nights that they celebrate is the annual Burns night which honours all things Scottish.
The night is always really special and we get to eat haggis that is paraded in by a man playing the bagpipes. Some of the men wear kilts and the women wear tartan sashes. And for those that drink, there is plenty of whisky to enjoy.
It makes me a little bit sad this year though. Not just because we can’t all gather to celebrate, but because last year was one of the final social events that we had before we entered this strange new world.
This time last year, we still didn’t have a clue what was on the horizon and it makes me think about how much I took for granted as I tucked into my haggis in January 2020. It’s strange to think that just eight weeks later, the idea of a social would be laughable.
I don’t drink so I can’t raise a glass tonight, but I may put on some bagpipe music and pretend with a little glass of apple juice. It will feel sad, knowing what we have lost over the last year. But maybe there can be a little glimmer of hope in there too. For now we know exactly how 2020 panned out but we also know that with a vaccine here, we may be on our way out of the other side.