meish dot org: life, unfolding

I threw loads of stuff away - or rather, more accurately, I took it all down to Oxfam, where the grumpy sales assistants’ little faces lit up when they saw me heaving under the weight of two huge binbags in a downpour. I feel wetter, more solid than I did before.

I’ve been on a Burns kick recently, though I don’t know why. I caught myself singing Ye Banks and Braes in the shower earlier, and now I’ve got Ae fond kiss running through my head. Or should that be heid?

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever
Ae fareweel, alas forever
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.

Which, in a strange and not altogether pleasant way, reminds me of my ex boyfriend (universally referred to (well, within my family and friends - my mum started it, blame her) as T**-The-Bastard, TTB for short - it’s a long story, remind me to regale you with it sometime) who used to serenade me with Burns (sounds abusive; it wasn’t) and with whom I once duetted at a Scottish ex-pats supper performance in New York. We got up on stage, him in his kilt looking foxy (it’s the legs, I tells ya), me in my frock looking posh, and gave the perfomance of a lifetime, to rapturous applause. And then we sat down and he told me in no uncertain terms that I’d mispronounced a word, and that if I ever embarrassed him like that again, he’d leave me. You know, as you do when you’ve just had a standing ovation.

Of course, that was before the throwing-the-luggage-out-of-the-window-at-4am-on-thanksgiving incident, but we’ll skip past that for the moment - it’s not a story best guaranteed to make me feel chipper and positive about the world, relationships, life, etc, etc.

I vowed never to like Burns again. I tossed him mentally into the pile of unreadable, undigestable wank. I quietly switched my affections to Atwood and cummings and Jennings. Poncey wank, sure, but at least not Scottish. Throughout the remainder of that relationship I refused to sing with TTB. He’d pick up the guitar, and solo, while I sat there, stoicly silent. Oh, the symbolism.

And now suddenly, it’s back in my head again. What’s that about, I wonder? Hmm.