Old Angus McScrooge was a man who loved only two things in life, money… and whisky he had no intention of sharing. Christmas, to him, was nothing more than an excuse for folk to expect warmth, kindness, and the opening of barrels best left sealed.
That all changed one cold Christmas Eve. As Angus sat alone in his stone bothy, guarding his whisky like the Cailleach guarding winter itself, he was visited by three ghostly apparitions, not spirits of men, but spirits of haggis.
The Ghost of Christmas Past appeared first, a drunken, translucent haggis, reeking of cheap blends. It showed Angus his youth, when barrels were shared freely, haggis roamed joyfully, and nobody measured a dram.
Next came the Ghost of Christmas Present, loud, round, and aggressively festive, rolling in atop a barrel. It showed homes across the glens filled with warmth, laughter, teacakes, and whisky passed hand to hand, even when there wasn’t much of it.
Finally, the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come arrived in silence. A thin, grey haggis clutching an empty barrel. No cheer. No sharing. No one left to pour a dram in Angus’ memory.
By morning, Angus was changed. He flung open his doors, rolled his barrels into the snow, and invited everyone, neighbours, strangers, and wandering haggis alike to share in the warmth.
And so it is said, to this day, that no barrel should ever go unopened at Christmas… for whisky hoarded is joy wasted
