Have you been seeing little green men sliding down rainbows and carrying little pots of gold? Don’t worry, you’re not on some freaky psychedelic intergalactic acid trip, nor have the Martians invaded to take over our economy.
Every year on 25 January, or thereabouts, we celebrate Burns Night. The celebration usually involves a Burns which is an institution of Scottish life and commemorates the life and poetry of Robert Burns,
My head is pounding… my ears are ringing… and that infernal alarm clock didn’t help. Is it really the third today… the last thing I remember is counting down from 10… there were fireworks… or it may have been my head exploding… I’m not sure…
Is it really the third… I’ve missed two whole days….
We all have those moments… that sudden awareness that we owe someone a demonstration of gratitude, the nick-of-time head-slapping realisation that “oh dear I completely forgot about the birthday/anniversary/retirement party,” or the last-minute trip where I absolutely must bring something for the host.
It’s that time of year again where supermarket shelves are piled floor to ceiling with “scary” candy; witches, ghosts, zombies, and superheroes scour the streets, knocking door to door, searching for some sugary treats to feast on,