Originally posted to Reddit on January 26 2024, and prompted in 2025 by this toot by Col: https://mstdn.social/@kibcol1049/113799104744391111.
Last night was Burns Night, when Scots worldwide traditionally celebrate the life of poet Robert Burns by reciting poetry, eating haggis, tatties & neeps. Or something like that.
We couldn’t find a veggie haggis this year so my wife bought a steak for my youngest daughter and me, to go with the veggies. I cooked it medium rare and cut a small slice as it was resting. I’m nurturing a cough started the day before and unfortunately coughed, accidentally swallowing the meat, which stuck in my throat.
Uncomfortable? Hell yes! I started to retch so went to the smallest room, hoping the meat went either down or out. It eventually went down.
Returning to the kitchen hoping to just relax and feel less miserable, Stella, the cat we’ve had since October and adopted in December, jumped off the counter with my steak. It fell on the floor as I shouted and as I reached for it she re-acquired it and ran between my legs, dragging the steak under her.
I finally caught her in the living room, shouted again and grabbed the steak off her. Straight back on the plate, a dollop of tomato ketchup squeezed beside the veg, and I sat down to eat. Finally.
Sure it was cold by that point but I’d won right?
Right?