Jigs, giggles and haggis.

Our first carrot harvest

This weekend has been lovely.  Our friends from Yorkshire came to visit and were full of complements on our new place.  Mrs said that the house was better than she could have ever imagined (even though she picked it out of the numerous house details we had looked at) and Mr was astounded by the spectacular views from the back of our house.  We took them for a lovely drive around the Scottish countryside and showed them the sights.  There were several photo stops along the way!

On Saturday night we cooked them a delicious meal of Haggis stuffed Chicken with a cream and tarragon sauce, complete with our first harvest of home grown veggies!  What an amazing feeling that was.  This was followed by homemade Scottish raspberry pavlova.  The wine was plentiful and a good time was had by all until we finally gave in to the yawns and went to bed around 1.30am!  During dinner, Hubby and I got to reminiscing about our first few weeks living here and how welcome we’d been made to feel.

When we had lived here about a month we were invited to a Ceilidh, amongst other events, by our new friends.  We had only ever been to one of these before and that was quite a while ago so we were by no means experts!  Now, bear in mind that I used to be a Singer and have supposedly got rhythm; Hubby on the other hand is tone deaf and has not one single rhythmic bone in his long body!  You would have thought the total opposite was the case on the night of the Ceilidh!

We went as part of a group of ten friends and the Ceilidh was in a village school hall a few miles away.  Puddleduck was staying at one of the friends’ houses for the night with their children and very tolerant babysitters and we were excited to be having a night out doing something totally different.

We all took our picnics and several bottles of wine.  The food was placed on the middle of the table for everyone to tuck in and share.  Conversations were easy, relaxed and flowing nicely and we very much felt a part of proceedings.

One of our new friends convinced Hubby to get up for one of the first dances.  I was shocked, to say the least, when he heartily agreed to this!  And I was immensely proud at how well he did.  In fact I would go so far as to say he made it look easy!  When it came to my turn the musicians realised I was a novice and called the dance for myself and a couple of others who were new to this type of “reel” dancing.  I can’t remember a time before that when I had laughed so much at myself and my apparent lack of co-ordination!

We rapidly became known as the “Yorkshire couple without a clue” and had everyone in stitches with our lack of expertise (well, mainly mine!  I even made poor Hubby look bad!)  Towards the end of the night there was a dance called “strip the willow” which, to my mind, looked rather complicated!  I wasn’t wrong, although it seemed I was the only one who felt this way.  Hubby was barking instructions at me over the music and I was running this way and that trying to figure out where the heck I was supposed to be; looking rather a lot like a turkey trying to escape the chop!

I was pulled from pillar to post by several gentlemen whose feet, I am sure,  have probably not been the same since!  The whole place was in uproar at my apparent incapacity and we were the centre of attention, not so briefly, thanks to my inept arm flailing!

It suffices to say that the next morning every muscle in my body ached, especially those in my stomach and face from all the laughing!  What a superb night and a wonderful way to burn off the calories and break the ice!

Regaling all of this to our visitors was great fun and they commented on how settled we had become in such a short space of time.  Thankfully we have still been invited to many a dinner party and coffee morning since the ceilidh, in spite of my ineptitude!  I am hoping, however, that we get plenty of warning before the next one so that I can get on the web to learn how to actually do some of the dances!

We sadly waved our friends off this afternon agreeing that next time they will stay for longer in order to make more of this stunning location.  The parting words we hear whenever we wave people goodbye.  It just goes to show that when something is right, it’s right.

Lazy Sunday afternoon


One response to “Jigs, giggles and haggis.

  1. My face is beaming remembering that night – don’t worry though you certainly weren’t the only novices – seem to remember Scottish Mr M had trouble keeping up.

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