Tonight I’m heading to the Fort Rd. pub for a Burn’s night supper. Scotch tasting and haggis eating is on the menu – along with lots of dancing to the amazing band Boys of St. James Gate. This will be the first time I’ve seen the boys since Jimmy’s wake and I’m looking forward to a great night of music and friends.

It amuses me to no end that my husband and former Philippines traveling companion, Paul, both wear my family tartan. Drew inherited my great-uncle Davy’s kilt, passed down from my father, and wears it proudly to many events. Paul came by his in a less traditional manner. A kilt in the tartan had been ordered by another gentleman who, upon seeing the tartan once the kilt was made, decided he didn’t like it. Paul, being ever the frugal Scot, purchased the kilt at a discounted price and occassionally rents it out when more robust individuals need a kilt for a special function.

I was hoping to be given my dad’s kilt when my mom visited over Christmas so Drew and I could both wear the same tartan when we’re piping. As that didn’t come to fruition I’ll be leaving some room in my suitcase when I head home in spring in the hopes of filling it before I fly back to Edmonton.

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