Celebrating Robbie Burns, Scotland and the Celts

I have to confess that I don't have a drop of Scottish blood in me, but I'm married to someone whose great great grandfather was the 14th Kingairloch of Gairloch and whose great grandmother was Beatrice Lachan Mcclachan of McClachan. So I almost qualify to write this piece, don't I?

Tonight is Robbie Burns night when all good Scots around the world gather to eat Haggis, drink whiskey and recite Burns' poetry. Actually I think you have to be born Scots to enjoy the first bit. I'm told Haggis is really tasty but I can't get over the words 'sheep's entrails in a sheeps stomach". I know it's silly. If I can eat one part of an animal, I can eat any part. But it doesn't sound exactly appetizing, does it.

But the other bits--the whisky and the poetry and toasts to a homeland some of them left two hundred years ago--I can agree with those. As a fellow Celt and Welshperson I'm always amazed how much influence our small Celtic countries have had on the rest of the world. Carnegie and John Knox and Wesley and Tom Jones and Sir Walter Scott and Bryn Terfel! And the bridges that Scottish engineers have built (it was a Scot who designed the Golden Gate, wasn't it?) and the mines that Welsh miners have dug in far corners of the globe.

Wales, with its population of less than a million people, a country one hundred miles by fifty, has left its mark everywhere. If you are called Jones or Roberts or Davis or Powell or Williams or Evans your ancestors came from Wales. Unless you are African American, that is. Then I'm afraid you were named for the ship's captain that transported your ancestor in one of the slave ships and signed for his cargo in the New World--and those ships sailed out of Bristol and the captains were Welshmen.

That's a less than honorable fact to be remembered for. But we Scots and Welsh have so many things to celebrate and so here's to Robbie Burns and Scots Way hay, whatever that means!

If you'd like to know more about Burns Night from a great Scottish writer then jump on over to Jungle Red Writers (www.jungleredwriters.com) and read Val McDermid's post there today.

The Party's Over.

I've been silent for a while because I've been at Bouchercon--the World Mystery Convetnion, which was held only a few miles from me in San Francisco this weekend. Bouchercon is one of those enormous conventions that takes place all over the USA, sometimes in Canada or even in UK. (I'm waiting for Australia next!). And brings in writers, publishers, reviewers and readers from all over the world. There was a good British contingent--note I say British, not English, because Val McDermid and Denise Mina would kill me. There was Irish representation and even Icelandic.

The local guest of honor was Laurie R. King, of Mary Russell fame. The international guest of honor was Denise Mina from Scotland and Lee Child was given a distinguished contribution to the genre honor. Lee brought with him not only members of his family--brother Andrew with lovely new wife Tasha Alexander, and niece Dana, but four Jack Reacher lookalikes for his Reachers Creatures party on Friday night. Imagine four buff guys, all six foot five and wearing tight Tshirts! That and the Dove bars in hospitality were highlights for me (okay, I'm shallow). Lee and Laurie were ominpresent, always with time to chat to everyone and epitomizing how generous and welcoming the mystery comunity is.

Other highlights were my non-panel--billed as a conversation with 3 goddesses (Louise Penny, Deborah Crombie and moi) It is so easy to chat with them, especially as they are two of my favorite writers and the audience seems to enjoy our completely unscripted chats; then applauding my blogmate, fellow Jungle Red Writer Hank Phillippi Ryan, as she won best short story on her birthday.

This picture is from our last goddess conversation. I'm still waiting for someone to send me the pictures that were taken this time. Oh, and I'm so glad I didn't wear the same jacket!

These conventions seem to turn into non-stop eating and drinking. Hi, how are you? let's grab a coffee. let's do breakfast tomorrow... let's have a drink at the bar to catch up. No wonder the line in the ladies room was always so long.  It was good to catch up with so many friends I hadn't seen in a while. All I had to do was stand at the bottom of the escalator and the whole world came to me! My one disappointment was missing my look-alike twin Meg Chittenden. She was supposed to attend but instead was rushed to hospital with clots in her lung. I hope she felt the love we all sent her.

So I realize I've given the scoop on a convention without one single piece of dirt to dish. The reason for this is that I was away for the juicy bits. I didn't stay in the convention hotel as I live just across the Bay--so I missed out on the fun late night stuff (memo to self--don't to that again. Lost half the fun). Also I was whisked across the Bay to the booksellers convention in Oakland to attend their author reception and sign books for my Royal Spyness publisher so I couldn't attend that publisher's party. I did attend the Minotaur party and stood between my favorite ancient Romans Lindsay Davies and Steven Saylor, and the Touchstone release party for their new serial novel. 

And now it's the day-after-Christmas feeling and I'm looking through the program and noting all the people I never saw in four days. It's always that way. Back to reality and laundry.