A gift from Uncle Peter

I dug out the book of Burns' poetry this evening.  

It's a book which actually belongs to my grandmother, having been gifted to her in 1949.  I don't know about you but that seems like a long time ago to me.

In terms of Burns, I'm a fan of Tam o' Shanter.  Those opening lines make me think of evenings where the pub is welcoming and warm; all the more so, given you know it's cold, dark and wet outside.

Thankfully, unlike Tam, I've yet to meet warlocks or witches on my way home.