Your Maggie-cat is much more forgiving than my Maggie-cat, I see. Although I finally got Maggie-love last night after I'd gone to bed, turned out the light, and curled up on my side; she crept up and tucked herself in the spot between my knees and my chest, commonly known as "the Maggie spot." She licked my fingers and laid her tail over my neck and purred a lot, so methinks she's finally over the sulk.
Lovely sweater bits!
Welcome back! The sweater is beautiful... but sorry about the haggis! Perhaps you should just consider it a necessary sacrifice that warded off all the other potential unpleasantnesses of cross-Atlantic travel...
Oh Lord, Margaret Tudor is simply divine - what a beautiful use for wool!
Losing the haggis would have broken my heart as it's something I have always wanted to try. And I would not have been the least bit gracious to the officious customs officials being stupid because they can get away with it. I'm furious FOR you.
Welcome home!
I'm just picturing some customs guy, sitting in a semi-dark room with a fork going, "That was haggis? Damn!"
Welcome home! Thanks for narrating your journey so delightfully. Oh, the haggis of it all, though. Sorry 'bout that.
Confiscating haggis??!!! Those complete and utter Morons!
Thanks for documenting your trip along the way! I enjoyed so much your adventures, although the reading of them made me yearn to return to Albion!
I'm sure you must have a highland games sometime during the summer within travelling distance; there's always someone selling slices of hot haggis there. Even Ren fairs sometimes have food vendors with haggis.
It's actually quite interesting. I've always had it fresh, so I'm trying to figure out how it would taste canned. (The word spam comes to mind, which makes me shudder, so I'm hoping it's nothing like that.)
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