Burns Supper at the Burren: despite the unwanted presence of hell-cold V.20, a success. We saw
nineweaving and
teenybuffalo and
choco_frosh and multiple people not on DW. My throat has not even faintly stopped hurting, but my voice held up for "John Barleycorn" and various choruses, including a plangent "Loch Lomond" by someone whose name I never get even though he reminds me each year of Odysseus in the Iliad, unprepossessing until he opens his mouth.
spatch and I went out in drizzling sleet and it was worth it. Now we are home and I am under an electric blanket and I feel this is the right place to be. P.S. There was haggis.
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Active Entries
- 1: Did you see the closing window? Did you hear the slamming door?
- 2: Make me a wreck as I come back and spare me as I'm going
- 3: Keeping time on the kingfisher's climb
- 4: Because brick-braided alleys make steep, sleeping valleys seem level and clear
- 5: Don't look round, but I think we're taking off
- 6: Sing the praise of Alexander, he's no use to me
- 7: The hedges and fields are clothed all around with several sorts of green
- 8: Chinatown, London Underground, you know it all sounds good to me
- 9: Take us roaming in the gloaming, your Ross rifle by your side
- 10: I'm singing out this poem all the way back home
Style Credit
- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by and
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