30th of November- St Andrew's Day. Your dad had made some traditional Scottish dishes, and to add salt in the wound; ones that looked like something looked out of a trash can or Hell's Kitchen. Haggis and crappit heid to be exact. The smell made you nauseous and even when threatened with being grounded, you refused.

John's words rang in your ears, frustrated and disappointed. "You should respect our culture. Eat the bloody food! At least try it!! A wee bite!" You knew it was important, but you just couldn't do it...

All you could do was sit at the table, pushing the food around on your plate and staring down at the weird fish heads, which looked as if they were staring back at you.