‘Let’s do something special for Burns Night’ it’s coming up on 25th January’, came a suggestion from one of our good friends at the beginning of this year. ‘The four of us could go together to the Baker’s Arms, the Local Restaurant/Bar who are putting on a special night.’
For Pat, my wife, who is truly Scottish, the idea was greeted with great enthusiasm. With the exception of herself, we’d never been to one before, so she was excited at the possibility of introducing us “Sassenachs” to the subtleties of a traditional Scottish event celebrating Robbie Burns the famous Caledonian poet and activist. On booking the tickets, Pauline did notice that comedy was mentioned, along with the traditional fayre on offer. Maybe this should have served as a warning light. Little, however, could fully prepare us for the evening ahead.
It started well enough: a table for four, a nicely carpeted, comfortable dining room seating about 70 people. Things, though, were about to take a turn for the worse. Clutching a microphone our host, dressed in a dark suit and tie, toured the tables as our resident comic. Unfortunately, his choice of gags was full of embarrassing innuendo and his attempts at interactive banter with us obviously fell a little flat. Next, the very same man metamorphosised into the Master of Ceremony, changing into a traditional kilt to present the Haggis accompanied by recorded bagpipes.
Having finished our meal, any hint of Scotland was immediately lost as our very same host, now in tight jeans and an open-necked shirt, became a DJ, pumping out dance floor fillers from Abba, Stevie Wonder and James Brown. All hopes of a tranquil traditional evening of culture were now aborted. However, nothing quite prepared us for the sight of the very same MC, hair swept back and leather clad, now taking to the dance floor as an Elvis Presley impersonator. I’m afraid that was enough for us… we beat a hasty retreat.
These things are always funnier afterwards, and it certainly gave us plenty to smile about, but how sad to try and be a ‘Jack of all Trades’ and a master of none. I wonder if, sometimes, we spread ourselves so thinly in our battle through life that we never really find what is really our true God given calling and gifting.