Burns, Baby. Burns.

Every year, on or around the 25th January, we do Burns Night. I’m married to a sort-of-Scot (my father-in-law was born and brought up in Edinburgh; the Husband’s more of a Hampshire Highlander) so Burns is big in his family. One year, my sister-in-law and I took on the cooking with the help of Pippa Middleton. Or rather, using her recipe book that my sister-in-law had got for Christmas. We spent the evening asking ‘what would Pippa do?’ as we decorated the table, mashed the neeps and made the whisky sauce (basically loads of whisky, cream and grainy mustard). In hindsight, I don’t think Pippa would have had quite as much pre-prandial whisky as we did. And she probably would have had food on the table before 10.30pm but it was great fun. This year, I’m just providing the wine. That, I can do.

Chin chin x

Ps – there will, of course, be whisky for Burns. I’ve been sent some Haig Club to try, David Beckham’s new single grain whisky. I’ll report back.