There isn’t any Scottish lineage in this old bloke but when friends invited my better half and I to a Robbie Burns gig scheduled for tonight, I was all in. It was at a local golf club and I guess one doesn’t eat haggis in jeans and a sweatshirt so we had to throw on our finest funeral blacks, being there no kilt in my closet.
It was a bit chilly so we decided to drop the ladies off at the front door of the clubhouse and then my buddy (who is a goalie) and I dumped the car off out back and decided to skip in the side door, scoot up the stairs through the curling rink lobby and head over to the clubhouse where the scotch awaited as gravy for the main entre.
As we passed through the curling rink lounge, sure enough there was a TV fired up with the Leaf game on showing the Leafs up early 2-0. There was no one watching but it was a qintessential Canadian moment – cold outside on a January Saturday night, ice on the curling rink, hockey on the TV, and a bunch of old farts dressed in kilts drinking scotch and pouring it over haggis just so it could be swallowed.
It was a great night. We learned a little history of the 78th Fraser Highlanders (although there was no record of them having a hockey team), saw some young ladies dance traditional Scottish dances (and with swords, which made it seem a little closer to a sport like hockey), and then we went home to a predictable result – the Leafs had lost. Tradition becomes habit I guess.