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R. Linda:
As you know, the Scottish party be Friday. BUT the haggis is missing along with a few other essentials. I have emailed and rung up THE Scotsman, who is supposed to supply us with the wee beastie. I have left messages all over the place.
Before I left for London, I wrote him to give him a heads-up that the big shindig was coming soon. Could we count on the haggis arriving the week of the 7th December? I got an email back with this size front saying: I think so.
That gave me a bit of pause. That was like a squeak. No, I THINK SO, instead that wee: I think so.
I had a bad feeling I did. No word from the Scotsman, no haggis either by that Monday. So I rang him up, no answer. I emailed, same nothing.
Then today the Scotsman rang, he said he was so very sorry about the deluxe haggis and that instead he'd send me one sheep bladder gratis and the directions to make me own haggis. I was gobsmacked. I said, "Thanks, but no thanks." I don't have time to be making haggis, besides it would gross this Irishman out to be making a Scottish delicacy and then I would certainly remember everything that went into it, and not be able to eat it.
So he said he'd send me 8 cans gratis to make up for not having the fresh one. That grossed me out more than the sheep bladder deal. I said hold off on those, I don't want canned anything. I asked him to reimburse us for the haggis and send the other stuff (Weasil and I had ordered whiskey fudge and some other things we didn't have time to be making).
Hold on, THAT stuff is out of supply too! I was like WHAT? WHAT!!!
The shortbread we ordered he no longer had, but he would send up shortbread fingers and tails in a TIN. Fingers and tails? A very nice tin no extra charge to the lady of the house. Why would Tonya care I asked meself. Well, ok I said, what else am I not getting? He said he didn't have the whiskey fudge, so he'd send Wallace fudge in place of that. What be Wallace fudge I ask, goats milk fudge sans the whiskey. Reluctantly, I said okay. What else? Good news, he's got the oatcakes, those he'll send right away with the substitutes. All right I say, what choice have I?
It dawns on me that he knows I be speaking with an Irish accent to his Scottish one, so it must be the little woman be Scottish, thus the referring to her. He should only know she be Lebanese and African American. But he wants me to know that he's taken the haggis supplier to task and the man will have them ready by the end of the week. Would I consider putting me party off another week? No, I say, I've put it off since September and I be not doing that. I ask him if the haggis guy is a Brit. He laughed and said, you'd think so wouldn't you? I think to meself, I thought HE was the haggis guy, now there be another one? Oi!
Last year we made the oatcakes, I made the shortbread and someone else made the bloody fudge. This year because it is so close to Christmas and Ton has cookies to make, she didn't want to spend the time with the Scottish foods. Best laid plans, huh? I have to tell the Weasil this. This is HIS haggis guy not mine, but because I be hosting this thing, I got stuck doing all the ordering of food to me house. You can see me brain is fried by the haggis conversation and I be getting simply stupid over it. And it isn't even me party or idea. How I let him talk me into these things, I don't know. I wouldn't dare tell me relatives back on the Emerald Isle that I, a son of Ireland was hosting a Scottish party. Do you know what they'd do to me? They'd disown me, call me horrible Gaelic names and bar me entrance to the old country FOREVER.
So no sheep bladder, no innards, not much else. Worse no whiskey fudge (the only thing I was looking forward to) to drown me sorrows. I don't know what we are going to do. All the invitations were sent out and all have responded they'd be coming. Sigh. But why should I worry? This be Weasil's gig -- he can figure it out and bring the main dish, right? I wash me hands of it. I be done, done I say! Now I need a piece of fudge and a glass of whiskey to dip it in.
Gabe
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
As you know, the Scottish party be Friday. BUT the haggis is missing along with a few other essentials. I have emailed and rung up THE Scotsman, who is supposed to supply us with the wee beastie. I have left messages all over the place.
Before I left for London, I wrote him to give him a heads-up that the big shindig was coming soon. Could we count on the haggis arriving the week of the 7th December? I got an email back with this size front saying: I think so.
That gave me a bit of pause. That was like a squeak. No, I THINK SO, instead that wee: I think so.
I had a bad feeling I did. No word from the Scotsman, no haggis either by that Monday. So I rang him up, no answer. I emailed, same nothing.
Then today the Scotsman rang, he said he was so very sorry about the deluxe haggis and that instead he'd send me one sheep bladder gratis and the directions to make me own haggis. I was gobsmacked. I said, "Thanks, but no thanks." I don't have time to be making haggis, besides it would gross this Irishman out to be making a Scottish delicacy and then I would certainly remember everything that went into it, and not be able to eat it.
So he said he'd send me 8 cans gratis to make up for not having the fresh one. That grossed me out more than the sheep bladder deal. I said hold off on those, I don't want canned anything. I asked him to reimburse us for the haggis and send the other stuff (Weasil and I had ordered whiskey fudge and some other things we didn't have time to be making).
Hold on, THAT stuff is out of supply too! I was like WHAT? WHAT!!!
The shortbread we ordered he no longer had, but he would send up shortbread fingers and tails in a TIN. Fingers and tails? A very nice tin no extra charge to the lady of the house. Why would Tonya care I asked meself. Well, ok I said, what else am I not getting? He said he didn't have the whiskey fudge, so he'd send Wallace fudge in place of that. What be Wallace fudge I ask, goats milk fudge sans the whiskey. Reluctantly, I said okay. What else? Good news, he's got the oatcakes, those he'll send right away with the substitutes. All right I say, what choice have I?
It dawns on me that he knows I be speaking with an Irish accent to his Scottish one, so it must be the little woman be Scottish, thus the referring to her. He should only know she be Lebanese and African American. But he wants me to know that he's taken the haggis supplier to task and the man will have them ready by the end of the week. Would I consider putting me party off another week? No, I say, I've put it off since September and I be not doing that. I ask him if the haggis guy is a Brit. He laughed and said, you'd think so wouldn't you? I think to meself, I thought HE was the haggis guy, now there be another one? Oi!
Last year we made the oatcakes, I made the shortbread and someone else made the bloody fudge. This year because it is so close to Christmas and Ton has cookies to make, she didn't want to spend the time with the Scottish foods. Best laid plans, huh? I have to tell the Weasil this. This is HIS haggis guy not mine, but because I be hosting this thing, I got stuck doing all the ordering of food to me house. You can see me brain is fried by the haggis conversation and I be getting simply stupid over it. And it isn't even me party or idea. How I let him talk me into these things, I don't know. I wouldn't dare tell me relatives back on the Emerald Isle that I, a son of Ireland was hosting a Scottish party. Do you know what they'd do to me? They'd disown me, call me horrible Gaelic names and bar me entrance to the old country FOREVER.
So no sheep bladder, no innards, not much else. Worse no whiskey fudge (the only thing I was looking forward to) to drown me sorrows. I don't know what we are going to do. All the invitations were sent out and all have responded they'd be coming. Sigh. But why should I worry? This be Weasil's gig -- he can figure it out and bring the main dish, right? I wash me hands of it. I be done, done I say! Now I need a piece of fudge and a glass of whiskey to dip it in.
Gabe
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
