Letter Nine
02/01/23 16:05
Dear Bunty,
It is that time of the year again, when I search through the mail looking for that letter from the Lord Chancellor's Office announcing some award for me from our Dear Queen. Alas this year is no different and no letter has been forthcoming. I am sure I may have to wait for the Queens 80 th Birthday Honours to hear of my investiture to the Knights of the Thistle. I would not even have to get a new badge as I could just dust off the old one that Daddy had. Not only that but it would make Kinloss green with envy. Hers is such a minor title against mine, and she is not even Chieftain of a Clan. I know I have many titles, half of which I do not care to use, but to be a Dame of the Order of The Thistle would really put the Estate on the map. I have heard that our postman is to get some award in recognition of his many decades of service to the local community. I ask you! Getting awards for doing what you were supposed to do! The Honours system really is in a mess.
I was due to attend the Chieftain's meeting in Edinburgh last week but I just could not face it as many of the Chiefs and Chieftains are now of a much younger generation than in my day and not as much fun. I know the clans here and overseas love to see me with my three feathers at the Games, but since that dreadful Clan Deere Gathering in Manitoba I have not been all that keen in developing the international ties of the Clan Deere. I mean, it was a Motel they provided for me on my trip and no wonder my face was of thunder when presenting the prizes at the Games - those Canadians may look strong and healthy but there was not one of them who could toss the caber properly and I felt that not one of them deserved to win the Championship Trophy. I know that sounds spiteful, but even in our local Games Ruaraidh, our gillie, gives that caber a great toss and flips it over to the correct position. It is a pity that he is fairly useless at the hammer event, as I would really enjoy having the Local Games Shield on display in the back hallway.
On Thursday this week we have our first Estate Wedding taking place. Catriona the Estate Manger applied for a marriage site licence last year and it has finally come through. The young couple getting married are not from around here, but come from some Central Belt industrial wasteland. I hear they are not short of cash, having become something in the playing equipment world, but I have had to insist that young children not be invited. There are so many lovely things in the house that would just break if touched by little hands. There are only twenty guests for the wedding, so I think there may be an element of 'shotgun' about it. Well who am I to judge in this day and age if the cart comes before the horse? Whenever I hear of girls in trouble I think of my dear old Nanny, who was born the wrong side of the blanket as we said in those days, and she turned out just perfectly. Still, Mummy was sure that the father of Nanny was someone important, but we never did get to the bottom of it all. He was probably someone in the Foreign Office back from the Colonies on a well-earned stay of leave. You know how the blood heats in some of those backwaters, where a white woman is a rare and splendid sight. That reminds me, Sir Hector has found the travel diary of his Aunt Isobel, who travelled by steam packet from Liverpool to Bombay in 1895. Some of the writing is most vivid, but she uses terms for the natives that would not be acceptable in this day and age. I am sure it will not be published.
Cook has come up with the most wonderful menu for the wedding guests. I am sure she too is practicing for a potential Deerestalker wedding later in 2005 as I hope for! Sir H is suspiciously quiet on the subject of a potential wedding in 2005, but I am sure that Alexander will return from Australia with good news for his parents.
Your ever friend, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
It is that time of the year again, when I search through the mail looking for that letter from the Lord Chancellor's Office announcing some award for me from our Dear Queen. Alas this year is no different and no letter has been forthcoming. I am sure I may have to wait for the Queens 80 th Birthday Honours to hear of my investiture to the Knights of the Thistle. I would not even have to get a new badge as I could just dust off the old one that Daddy had. Not only that but it would make Kinloss green with envy. Hers is such a minor title against mine, and she is not even Chieftain of a Clan. I know I have many titles, half of which I do not care to use, but to be a Dame of the Order of The Thistle would really put the Estate on the map. I have heard that our postman is to get some award in recognition of his many decades of service to the local community. I ask you! Getting awards for doing what you were supposed to do! The Honours system really is in a mess.
I was due to attend the Chieftain's meeting in Edinburgh last week but I just could not face it as many of the Chiefs and Chieftains are now of a much younger generation than in my day and not as much fun. I know the clans here and overseas love to see me with my three feathers at the Games, but since that dreadful Clan Deere Gathering in Manitoba I have not been all that keen in developing the international ties of the Clan Deere. I mean, it was a Motel they provided for me on my trip and no wonder my face was of thunder when presenting the prizes at the Games - those Canadians may look strong and healthy but there was not one of them who could toss the caber properly and I felt that not one of them deserved to win the Championship Trophy. I know that sounds spiteful, but even in our local Games Ruaraidh, our gillie, gives that caber a great toss and flips it over to the correct position. It is a pity that he is fairly useless at the hammer event, as I would really enjoy having the Local Games Shield on display in the back hallway.
On Thursday this week we have our first Estate Wedding taking place. Catriona the Estate Manger applied for a marriage site licence last year and it has finally come through. The young couple getting married are not from around here, but come from some Central Belt industrial wasteland. I hear they are not short of cash, having become something in the playing equipment world, but I have had to insist that young children not be invited. There are so many lovely things in the house that would just break if touched by little hands. There are only twenty guests for the wedding, so I think there may be an element of 'shotgun' about it. Well who am I to judge in this day and age if the cart comes before the horse? Whenever I hear of girls in trouble I think of my dear old Nanny, who was born the wrong side of the blanket as we said in those days, and she turned out just perfectly. Still, Mummy was sure that the father of Nanny was someone important, but we never did get to the bottom of it all. He was probably someone in the Foreign Office back from the Colonies on a well-earned stay of leave. You know how the blood heats in some of those backwaters, where a white woman is a rare and splendid sight. That reminds me, Sir Hector has found the travel diary of his Aunt Isobel, who travelled by steam packet from Liverpool to Bombay in 1895. Some of the writing is most vivid, but she uses terms for the natives that would not be acceptable in this day and age. I am sure it will not be published.
Cook has come up with the most wonderful menu for the wedding guests. I am sure she too is practicing for a potential Deerestalker wedding later in 2005 as I hope for! Sir H is suspiciously quiet on the subject of a potential wedding in 2005, but I am sure that Alexander will return from Australia with good news for his parents.
Your ever friend, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004