All this talk about Haggis, well it hasn't made me hungry, but it has made me think of my father. He was a lover of all things offal. Before he had a stroke that is and went in entirely the other direction. He even briefly embraced the Pritikin way of eating. But I don't think anyone could last on that for long. Or could even want to.
However back when we were kids I remember him eating anything they could scrape or cut out of a lamb or beast. He loved black pudding, brawn, tongue, pigs trotters, tripe, all that nasty stuff. But none of that was what caused the stroke anyway. I'm pretty sure the 4 packs of smokes a day had something to do with that. And probably the dripping sandwiches. Honestly, these people who have lived through wars, they'll eat anything.
Except fish head soup. He told me once that when he was a boy in England, that the school he went to would serve fish head soup for lunch on Fridays. He said he was astounded the first time they served it up. He'd always thought fish heads were only used for bait. His words were that is was – bloody awful stuff.
And a fitting picture I made ages ago for some reason I can't remember. I think I just liked the groovy lads and lassie. That was our pet sheep, bunting barney. I think dad accidently killed him. But he didn't become haggis. Just sunday baked dinner.