EVERY January for more than 40 years I have found myself, somewhere in the world, toasting the Immortal Memory of Robert Burns.
This is something of the legacy of being brought up in Ayrshire where it was impossible to escape the inluence of Scotland’s most remarkable poet. Given, however, his stormy relationship with the Church and a lifestyle that disturbed the pillars of the establishment I’m often asked, “Why the admiration for Burns?”