Thank goodness-another round of Burns' commemorations safely passed without the agony of direct participation
-they used to be the low point of Huttonian's social calendar during a career mostly in foreign parts boozing for Britain aka HM Diplomatic Service. I have sat through more 'Immortal Memories' (which I used, naively, to associate with Nelson rather than the Dumfries plough boy) than I care to recall, suffered many 'tremendous' (The Berwickshire'
s epithet) 'Willie Wastles' , thunderous son et lumiere assisted 'Tam O'Shanters' and tremulous timorous beesties -an Ode to a Mouse, of course. This week's Berwickshire
brings all these horrors back but I am sorry to have missed one Burn's masterpiece referred to in the local press as allegedly rendered by an 'irrepressible Dinger' : My Lobe
is like a Red, Red Rose. Someone once told me that inflamed ears were symptom of too much haggis so I hope he makes a speedy recovery.