A Burns Supper with a dash of Star Wars

Today was a really, really busy day at work.  Client’s back to back and two emergency appointments to squeeze in.  On top of that I had to get my car to the garage – but that’s a whole other story.

Last night my son uttered that word, you know the one that means you are either going to have to make a decision, or agree to do something.  ”Mum????”  Anyhow the bit that followed fitted into both of these categories.  He wanted to have a bunch of friends round to watch the movie Star Wars and asked if I would cook for them.  Well, it’s Friday night I thought, they’ve all been studying and I don’t mind the cooking so I said yes.  I asked him to text me at lunchtime on Friday, let me know how many were coming and if there were any vegetarians – oh and anyone who didn’t drink Irn Bru.

My son's drink of choice - a Scottish fizzy drink made from a secret recipe that tastes of a cross between bubble gum and plastic

So I was half way through Friday and edging at full speed into the afternoon when I realised that I’d had no text about how many were coming for dinner.  I wasn’t going to get a chance to go shopping until later so it was not big deal. I just got on with my day.  Anyhow at about 4pm-ish whilst I was in the garage with all the to-ing and fro-ing with insurance and this and that my phone rang.  It was my son.  ”Just to let you know mum there are 10 coming”.  This day was just getting better and better.

So there I was, not yet finished my day, no courtesy car available, two bags full of files heading back to the office working out a menu for 10 in my head.  Actually I was trying to work out whether or not I could actually manage to carry all my files and shopping for dinner, plus the Irn Bru and still make it home in time to cook.

I did it!

All worked out I made it home with everything, flung on the pasta and before long and the kids started arriving.  However I soon realised something a bit different was going on.  I could hear all this commotion and hilarity at the other end of the house.  Then one of my son’s friends arrived in the kitchen –  with being invited for dinner and all he has somehow got confused and thought we were having a Burns Night so, get this, he turned up in his kilt – yep the works.

Needless to say he took a real ribbing from the others – but as I was putting out the pasta and garlic bread I gave him a wink and said,  ”I do like a man in a kilt”.

So, in honour of the kilted one in our midst, and in true Burns style, they did a Toast to the Pasta with Irn Bru

Me and the Kilted One