Had haggis this morning for breakfast. We’re in Edinurgh, winding down our tour. I wanted to try the dish, as the first and only other time I’d eaten it was during an international festival in Oregon years ago. It was awful thenâ€”a chunky, rank pile of glop, straight from the stomach it was cooked in. I’m not sure it was prepared properly. But this morning’s haggis was served in a little round sausage patty sort of thing, and I could clearly see the appeal. I’m just not a huge fan of offal, no matter how or where it’s served. But this, at least, I could understand, especially when accompanied by grilled mushrooms, tomatoes, beans and potatoes.
We’ve seen some interesting sights here in Edinburgh, and learned a thing or two. We arrived the night before last, hoping to catch a drink in the bar before retiring to our room. Just one drinkâ€”but instead, we were swept into the storm of a surly old coot (half English, half Scots) who pounded the table and spoke with abandon. Things quickly devolved after he told the hotel/bar owner to “shut up.” That was our cue to leave the bar. From the lovely bay window of our room, we listened to a brawl in the foyer, the arrival of cops and their departure an hour later with the offender in cuffs. Somehow, our travels always lead us to the strangest events.
In all of that, however, we learned a bit of local lingo. In the US, we say “one for the road.” Apparently in Scotland, the phrase is “a b*#ch for the ditch.” One for the road surely puts you in the ditch, and one for the ditch leads to the gutter. So we were told, anyway.