Burns Night

I guess you could tell after yesterday's saga that I was tired, for I didn't set an alarm in the morning, and even amazed myself by not waking up until 12:45 PM. Nearly 13 hours of sleep! I guess I needed it!!

When it started snowing mid-day, I called and ordered a cab for the evening, figuring it would be £13 well-spent to not have to worry about trekking through the snow in my dress and heels.

Of course, despite having specifically told the cab company to send a cab at 6:40 PM, I got a call at 6:30 PM that it was already there. So I had to hurry and finish my hair and make-up, and all of my plans of wearing a fancy coat were thrown out the window, as I just grabbed my regular pea coat and ran out the door. In the end, I just decided to pin my hair up in curls, and of course only remembered to take a picture of it at the end of the evening when it was already starting to come undone:

The cab then got me to the event right on time, so I could make it into the cocktail hour and look for people I knew. It was hideously dull for quite a while, as I was forced into conversation with people I didn't know, but it at least saved me from the awkward looks and avoidance of the only people I recognised, two Scottish blokes I'd hooked up with after previous events like this one.

Of course what annoys me most is that nothing really happened with either of them, beyond a short make-out session with one and some awkward snuggling on a deflated air-mattress with the other. So now I get all of the awkward fall-out of a hook-up, without even having gotten the hook-up? That seems hideously unfair.

Eventually I spotted Caroline across the room, so I took the opportunity to escape the tedious conversation I was stuck in with strangers to make my way over to say hello to her, but got waylaid when I ran into Doro and Elana on the way. Given that they're both much more charming than tedious strangers, I was only too happy to say hello. Apparently Doro's boyfriend was originally supposed to come with her, but he'd gotten busy with work, so Elana was a last-minute replacement. How dull, to miss an event like this for something as mundane as work!

Then we were all called to attention as one of the members of the Caledonian Club read aloud a stirring version of ‘Scots Wha Hae’, apparently a traditional poem by Robbie Burns, imagining what William Wallance must have said to inspire his troops to battle before some famous conflict (I can't remember what they said). It was actually really lovely to hear the traditional Scottish poems spoken by true Scotsmen with the proper accent, rather than so many people trying desperately to affect the right accent as has been the case at some other Burns Nights I've been to.

We then filed into dinner and found our places, where I found to my relief that I was not seated at the dreaded long table on the edge (who on earth every came up with that hideous idea for a seating plan?), but rather at one of the shorter tables with people all around me. The man seated to my right was married, and anyway he and his wife pretty exclusively talked to the couple across from them. The man to my left was Greek, nice enough but somewhat hard to understand at times.

I therefore ended up spending most of the evening talking to a 32-year old British banker of Italian heritage with a very Italian name, so hence he shall be referred to as "Italian Guy" even though he was English. Even though I hadn't taken notice of him at first, we chatted on aimiably enough throughout the dinner, bonding over the fact that he used to live in New York, and all that is wonderful about that city. Yet justas I was starting to reconsider him, he mentioned that he was allergic to garlic. Now I'm not usually a huge one for dealbreakers, as the only one I really have is smoking (definitely do not want to be kissing a guy who smells like an ashtray). But it was amazing how quickly learning the "no garlic" fact so quickly changed my perceptions of a man who up until that point had been looking rather cute, to suddenly realising that he was rather impatient and curt with people, too quick to critisize, and not seeming that interested in conversation at all. Something about our disagreement on the garlic issue just let us both know we weren't suited for each other.

At the start of dinner, we stood for the Selkirk Grace, and then the haggis was piped in, with bagpipes leading in front of a chef carrying the haggis. Then the "Address to a Haggis" was read (with quite a flourished stab of the haggis with a dirk), and then dinner was served. Those around me didn't seem to realise that the little glass of whiskey at their plates was for pouring on the haggis, and didn't seem inclined to believe me no matter how much I insisted on it!

We then settled back to listen to the entertaining "Toast to the Lassies", which was full of jokes like, "A lucky man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend. A lucky woman is a woman who can find such a man." In years past, when the Toast to the Lassies has been more filled with personal jokes about the women present (as the crowd all knew each other), there has also been a Response from the Lassies, but in this case, at the end of the toast, the men all stood and raised their glasses to the women, settling the matter that we may drive them crazy, but they can't live without us anyway. Rater lovely, in its way.

We then had dessert, and then they announced that there was going to be a break, while we all went downstairs for a bit. Yet right before this, the Italian Guy knocked over his water glass and spilled it all over me. What on earth is it with men spilling drinks on me these days? Luckily it was just water, and I was wearing the same black dress I had been wearing when water was spilled on me previously, but it was hugely annoying, particularly because this guy didn't seem cute about it or quick to want to buy me a drink to make ammends, it was just an "Oh, sorry" kind of thing. As though the garlic allergy wasn't the only thing going against him?

During the short break downstairs, I found Caroline, but she was without her boyfriend Brian, which I found to be rather interesting. I didn't ask her about it (maybe he was just busy with work), but it still made me curious how she didn't mention him at all.

After about 20 minutes, we all went back upstairs, but I couldn't tell what the break had been for at all, as our tables and glasses were still all in place, just as we had left them. We then sat there listening to the Immortal Memory, a speech given by an invited gust about Robert Burns. The guy unfortunately had really mis-judged his audience, for while it was mildly interesting at first, it went downhill quickly, and we were all bored to death. At least for most of the time we were kept occupied by the fact that they had put an entire bottle of whiskey on each table, but then one of the girls at the table poured nearly all of it (about six fingers worth, instead of the standard two fingers) into one chap's glass. I think as a joke, but it was really incredibly rude to everyone else at the table (as the chap then didn't drink it), and what a waste of good whiskey!

Finally the speech was over and we finished with one last round of the bagpiper piping around the room, and then we all stood up, crossed arms and linked hands, and sang "Auld Lang Syne". As you do at Scottish events!

After dinner we ended up back downstairs, and I spotted a guy wearing a Wyverns tie, indicating that he had been to Magdalene (and he looked vaguely familiar too). I wanted to go talk to him, but I was unfortunately stuck in conversation with Italian Guy and two very dull girls who didn't seem to have anything interesting to say. Yet I could tell they were just Manolo's speed, so I extricated myself from the conversation to go find the Wyverns-tie-guy.

It was funny because much of the group had migrated from the drawing room to the bar at that point, and so it took me a while to find him. Yet once I did, he had the exact same reaction to my puzzled statement that, "I know you." He instantly said, "I know you too!" It turned out it was Marcus, from Magdalene, as soon as he said his name I remembered him from the JCR. We bonded pretty quickly and got to chatting, bringing Doro (another fine Magdalene-ite) into the conversation too. Why do I run into so many Magdalene people at these events, but so few Balliol people?

At some point, the guy who was chatting with Doro decided to buy me another whiskey, which I thought was rather nice of him. Given that women are not normally allowed in the Caledonian bar, it's always nice to have a gent taking care of you there!

I then really got talking to Doro, and in the course of our conversation it was revealed that Elana is in the Territorial Army, and Doro started telling me lots of stories about Elana that gave me a whole new regard for her. Perhaps I haven't warmed to Elana instantly, but sounds like she's perhaps someone who I should make more of an effort to get to know.

I was then also surprised when Neighbour Guy's name came up in the conversation, first and lasat name, so there was no confusing who she was talking about. Just to be sure, I also checked that it was the same guy sitting at our table during the Reverse Dinner, which it was. Turns out that Elana and Neighbour Guy know each other, yet even when they were sitting at the same table at the Reverse Dinner, I couldn't recall them exchanging even there merest of pleasantries. WTF?

That little tidbit of information certainly adds an interesting wrinkle to the whole story. After all, boys and girls who know each other but don't talk to each other is usually a sign of a former hook-up whenver I've encountered it...usually not one that ended well... I will admit, I'd texted him right when I returned from the US to ask if he was coming to this event, and he never responded, which even if you're not interested is really kind of rude. You start to realise that although someone might be nice and charming, if they're 34-years old and single, you begin to wonder why...

Then I ran into Liza in the hallway, a Russian girl who I've seen at a number of these events, and she insisted that we've run into each other enough now, that we should exchange numbers! Sounded like a good plan, so we did.

Finally, it was time to leave. I went to get my coat (the coat-check girl had long since gone home, so we just had to stumble around in the coat room ourselves looking for our things), and I said good-bye to a few people I knew who were hanging out in the library. Finally, the Big Scottish Bloke who I'd spent a night curled up on a deflated air-mattress with finally acknowledged me, at least with a gentle nod and a wave goodnight. The whole evening (as though the Christmas Ball in December hadn't been a reminder enough), that it's never a good idea to hook-up with men you know you will see again, as it only becomes awkward. Boys are funny like that, always wanting to hook-up with girls but then having no idea how to talk to them afterwards... It's a strange situation but one more reason to always go home alone, I guess!

Outside, I gave Marcus a kiss good-bye as he was out there smoking a cigarette, then flagged a cab and headed home. It was a lovely event, but I was a tad bit annoyed that not a single guy had seem interested in making a move on me the entire evening. I guess it's really time for that January diet!!