PANCAKE DAY - SHROVE TUESDAY

In UK SHROVE TUESDAY is known as Pancake Day or Pancake Tuesday.

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Why do we eat pancakes?
Shrove Tuesday is the last day before the period which Christians call LENT. It is traditional on this day to eat pancakes. Lent is a time of abstinence, when people give things up. So Shrove Tuesday is the last chance to eat up foods that aren't allowed in Lent. Pancakes are eaten on this day because they contain fat, butter and eggs which were forbidden during Lent.

When is pancake day?
Shrove Tuesday is celebrated the day before Ash Wednesday and is therefore the final day before the beginning of Lent, an important time in the Christian calendar which leads up to Easter Sunday or Easter Day.

The name SHROVE comes the word 'shrive' which means to confess. In the Middle Ages, people would confess their sins on Shrove Tuesday so that they were forgiven before the season of Lent began.

What are pancakes?
A pancake is a thin, flat cake, made of batter and fried in a pan. Traditionally, fine sugar is sprinkled on top and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice. Then the pancake is rolled. Some people add golden syrup or jam. My variation is to add fresh fruit, such as raspberries :-)

Around the World
Pancake Day is also known as Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday and is also celebrated all over the world with fun, games and lots of eating. Customs vary in different countries.

ROBERT BURNS, SCOTLAND'S POET and BURNS NIGHT - 25th January

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Robert (Rabbie) Burns is Scotland's best-loved national poet and lyricist and tonight is the celebration of his 250th birthday. In our technological age, has reading of poetry lost its appeal? Is it no longer still fashionable? In Scotland tonight and across the world, many people will be reading and listening to recitations of his poems in the Scots language. His more famous poems include the song Auld Lang Syne, sung at Hogmanay, A Red, Red Rose and Scots Wha Hae.

Rabbie was born in Alloway in Ayrshire in 1759. He spent his youth working on his father's farm, but inspite of his poverty, he was taught by a tutor and was extremely well read. He started to write his poems from a young age. He died at the age of 37 years.

Burns Suppers will be held tonight to commemorate Scotland's best loved bard. Recitation of the Selkirk Grace is made. This is followed by a piper leading the chef carrying the haggis to the table while the guests slowly clap their hands. The chairman recites Burns' famous poem To A Haggis. When he reaches the line an cut you up wi'ready slight, he cuts open the haggis with a sharp knife. The haggis is toasted with a wee dram of whisky. The dinner then commences. This consists of Cook-a-leekie soup, Haggis with Champit Tatties (mashed potatoes) and Bashed Neeps (mashed turnips), Typsy Laird (sherry trifle) and a Tassie o' Coffee.

After dinner, speeches on Burns are given. Then the lasses (women) in the audience are addressed and in turn they respond humourously detailing men's foibles! The evening ends with a range of songs and poems. Finally the company stand, link hands and sing Auld Lang Syne.

One of my favourite poems by Rabbie Burns:

TO A MOUSE

	Wee sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an chase thee, Wi murdering pattle! I'm truly sorry man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor, earth-born companion. An fellow mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve: What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen icker in a thrave 'S a sma request; I'll get a blessin wi the lave, An never miss't! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! Its silly wa's the win's are strewin! An naething, now, to big a new ane, O foggage green! An bleak December's win's ensuin. Baith snell an keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an waste, An weary winter comin fast. An cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro thy cell. That wee bit heap o leaves an stibble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble. But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An cranreuch cauld! But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best-laid schemes o mice an men Gang aft agley, An lea'e us nought but grief an pain, For promis'd joy! Still thou art blest, compar'd wi me! The present only toucheth thee: But och! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! An forward, tho I canna see, I guess an fear!