Lurking Haggis – by Sheila

In advance of the holiday with my friends in Charmouth (you can read about that holiday here), we worked out a rota of who would cook the evening meal each night.  Four of us volunteered to cook on the Saturday night, and as three of the four are Scottish born, we decided to have haggis, as Scottish dancing was planned for later that evening.  I therefore called into the butcher in Wincheap, Canterbury, near where I live, to order up the haggis some time before the planned holiday.

The Wincheap Butcher
The Wincheap Butcher

When I asked if they would order me a couple of extra large haggis in “natural skins” (stuffed into the stomach of a sheep) I was told that the shop planned to close and they would not be putting in any more orders.  I expressed my surprise: the shop has been there for decades – thirty-four years they told me – but isn’t getting enough trade now.  I feel really sorry that one of the two real butchers in Canterbury is being forced to close, but can understand why.  There is a very successful Aldi just round the corner, where perfectly passable meat is sold at a fraction of the price of the old fashioned butcher.  However the butcher said to me he would take a look in his freezer in case there was any haggis lurking there: he thought there might be a couple of small ones.

When the butcher returned, I could hardly believe my luck. He could barely carry what he had found! There were two massive creatures and half a dozen smaller ones, all in natural skins, rather than the ubiquitous polythene bags.  He put them on the scales and discovered they weighed a total of twenty-one pounds.  Did I want them all for £15? My money was out like a shot of course – it was the bargain of the week!   They went straight out of his freezer and into mine.  We did a trial run with some friends the week before we left with two of the smaller ones to check their provenance, and with the knowledge that they were top class, were happy to take the two giant haggis off on holiday with us.

The frozen haggis
21lbs of frozen haggis, bought for £15!

So on the Saturday we carefully cooked them up to go with mashed potatoes and neeps (what the Scots call turnip and the English, for some strange reason, swede).  One of the creatures was carried in, in the traditional manner and was formally addressed by Stewart and Ken, who jointly performed a vigorous and entertaining rendition of Burns’ “Address to a Haggis”. Amazingly nineteen out of the twenty round the table love haggis, so we made short shrift of what must have been twelve or thirteen pounds in weight of it.

Ken-the-kilt and Stewart address the haggis
Ken-the-kilt and Stewart address the haggis

A cooked haggis

And then it was on with the main event – the dancing.  Ken-the-kilt and his lovely wife Anne (read more about them in the blog post of 5th April) had the carpet rolled back, the music switched on and were ready to guide those with little knowledge of Scottish whirling.  We all did our best and loved every moment.  During a break in the dancing someone asked if I thought we would be dancing up Kilimanjaro.  I said I had not heard of dancing there, but that singing round the campfire might be a possibility:  I know that the African porters and guides are keen to teach others their local songs.  In the sober light of day I realise that of course there is no dancing!  We will be struggling to walk slowly at altitude, let alone flinging ourselves around dancing – that might be fatal!  The porters and guides will be saying “Pole, pole” to us all the way – slowly, slowly – and taking off into an Eightsome Reel or an Orcadian Strip the Willow will not be part of the plan.

Ken-the-kilt and Anne lead a reel
Ken-the-kilt and Anne lead a reel