In the rest of the world, November 30 is known as All Saints’ Day. Here it is devoted to one saint alone, how gracious.
St. Andrew was a holy man who lived everywhere else than in Scotland, but after his death another holy guy named St. Rule had a dream saying Andrew’s remains were to be buried at the end of the world where they would never be found by anyone in their sanity. So he went to the tomb, grabbed some very random parts (a tooth, an arm bone, a kneecap and some fingers) and brought them to guess where. Catholics and others who believe in ghosts say he’s been protecting Scotland ever since.
St. Andrew’s cross:
Anyhow, there was a céilidh (silent d) to his name, and what a night it was! Kristen, can you fill me in with some photoes?
If I bring the moves to homely dancefloors people will think I’m a redneck, but it looks fantastic when everyone does it together. Fun and friendly and hobbity.
What a pity it took so long to realise where to go to see the loveliest garment in the world jump about!
Bassist of Iluvietie, as far as I can tell. Rawr.
The place was awesome, but the staff did not have a clue about drinks:
I ordered a Black Russian. They go, “Sure, if you can tell me what is in it.” I can’t remember so I ask for Kahlua and coffee instead. I get two Kahluas with coffee instead of the one I ordered.
I ordered whiskey, and asked to see the interesting-looking bottle in the bar. They hear only the first part and get me Famous Grouse (very not interesting).
What more was it? Oh yes, my rum and lemonade came out very dark so I ask if that’s really lemonade. The rum and COKE is quickly removed and my drink remade.
