Last January 25 and next January 25, I took and shall take part in a ritual at once solemn and amusing, timeless and spontaneous – not part of the Church’s liturgy, yet at the same time a fitting companion to the more liturgical observances of the Month of the Holy Name.

Despite it being observed primarily by natives of a single nationality, 2018 found me celebrating this ritual at the Tam O’Shanter Restaurant in the Atwater section of Los Angeles; this year will take me to the Chavagnes International College in the heart of France’s Vendée region. Yet this formal dinner – for such it is – honours neither some glimmering star of old Hollywood nor a stalwart of Catholic Counter-revolution, but a Scots poet who died all too young of exposure – Robert Burns (1759-1796).