Letter Five
10/12/22 16:02
My dearest Bunty,
What a lovely time I had in London over the last few days. I am writing this on the aeroplane travelling to Inverness on my return. I am glad I have a stiff whisky and soda to steady my hand, as this flight from Gatwick is a little choppy today. I am overburdened with shopping as you can imagine. I am sorry you were late for our lunch appointment, a telephone call could have made me stay in lovely Fortnum's a little longer to wait but you know how I detest tardiness and so you missed out on some exquisite Lobster Bisque and cucumber sandwiches. They do spoil one so! Whilst in Fortnum's buying tea, I saw Countess d'A. across in the chocolate counter and I had to say I had to duck down under the Orange Pekoe stand to avoid her. She is the size of Gigha my dear! What a beauty she was in her youth! Do you remember her at the Old King's funeral? A bit overdone with the Helena Rubenstein then, and from my vantage point nothing at all has changed. A real lady would tone down the colour as maturity advances one, but she obviously never had the finishing we did. Pity but at least we can all now know where her money is spent - camouflage and chocolate!
As you know I pride myself in being able to talk to all sorts, so occasionally I drop in on BBC1 'Top of the Pops' just to see what the young ones are listening too these days. I caught an edition in my hotel room last week and was pleasant surprise to hear lyrics for a change that someone of my age could understand. I caught that American Girl band singing well. Beautiful cardigans they had on and totally spoiled by some slutty dancing. There was no need for that in my opinion. I shall keep that to myself as a comment like that does not go down well with the younger generation. I am glad we grew up under the control of the RSCDS and learned how a lady should move on the dance floor. I know times are changing, but we were always taught that a lady does not move her nether regions unless she is crawling through the heather behind the gillie, and I shall never change. Still I now have some fuel to use when I see Catriona, our robust Estate Manager, and her son next as I can show off my knowledge of current youth music!
I do hope someone is going to meet me at Inverness airport, as a taxicab from there to the estate is such an unwanted expense. I know Sir H is feeling flush with money at the moment but every little economy should be made I firmly believe. In any case I think my parcels and delicates will fit better in the back of the Bentley, and I do love to traverse our wonderful countryside in the back of that car with the Deerestalker tartan rug across my knees. You know how I suffer from a draft about my stockings. Talking of which, I had to visit Rigby & Peller for some undergarments and was pleasantly surprised to see that they still do the support garments I love. Even though I was close to Harrods's I heard Sir H's warning in my ear about not going in but I could not resist. You know how I love to see the fish sculpture in the Food Hall. The shop itself has taken on a slightly more common attitude but I am pleased to report that some standards are maintained. You cannot but be taken aback at all the notices of what is acceptable clothing to wear in the shop as you have the door opened for you by tail coated young men. They did look smart but I did not tip, as I am sure one of them was chewing gum at the time. They never even doffed their tall hats to me - a Peeress of the Realm no less. You would not see that happening here in Banffshire I can tell you as if there was a single occasion of ill-manners, Sir H would be out of the car and giving the miscreant in question a sharp rap on the back with his walking stick. Manners cost nothing after all.
Your ever friend, Flora
[Editorial Note: RSCDS - Royal Scottish Country Dancing Society]
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
What a lovely time I had in London over the last few days. I am writing this on the aeroplane travelling to Inverness on my return. I am glad I have a stiff whisky and soda to steady my hand, as this flight from Gatwick is a little choppy today. I am overburdened with shopping as you can imagine. I am sorry you were late for our lunch appointment, a telephone call could have made me stay in lovely Fortnum's a little longer to wait but you know how I detest tardiness and so you missed out on some exquisite Lobster Bisque and cucumber sandwiches. They do spoil one so! Whilst in Fortnum's buying tea, I saw Countess d'A. across in the chocolate counter and I had to say I had to duck down under the Orange Pekoe stand to avoid her. She is the size of Gigha my dear! What a beauty she was in her youth! Do you remember her at the Old King's funeral? A bit overdone with the Helena Rubenstein then, and from my vantage point nothing at all has changed. A real lady would tone down the colour as maturity advances one, but she obviously never had the finishing we did. Pity but at least we can all now know where her money is spent - camouflage and chocolate!
As you know I pride myself in being able to talk to all sorts, so occasionally I drop in on BBC1 'Top of the Pops' just to see what the young ones are listening too these days. I caught an edition in my hotel room last week and was pleasant surprise to hear lyrics for a change that someone of my age could understand. I caught that American Girl band singing well. Beautiful cardigans they had on and totally spoiled by some slutty dancing. There was no need for that in my opinion. I shall keep that to myself as a comment like that does not go down well with the younger generation. I am glad we grew up under the control of the RSCDS and learned how a lady should move on the dance floor. I know times are changing, but we were always taught that a lady does not move her nether regions unless she is crawling through the heather behind the gillie, and I shall never change. Still I now have some fuel to use when I see Catriona, our robust Estate Manager, and her son next as I can show off my knowledge of current youth music!
I do hope someone is going to meet me at Inverness airport, as a taxicab from there to the estate is such an unwanted expense. I know Sir H is feeling flush with money at the moment but every little economy should be made I firmly believe. In any case I think my parcels and delicates will fit better in the back of the Bentley, and I do love to traverse our wonderful countryside in the back of that car with the Deerestalker tartan rug across my knees. You know how I suffer from a draft about my stockings. Talking of which, I had to visit Rigby & Peller for some undergarments and was pleasantly surprised to see that they still do the support garments I love. Even though I was close to Harrods's I heard Sir H's warning in my ear about not going in but I could not resist. You know how I love to see the fish sculpture in the Food Hall. The shop itself has taken on a slightly more common attitude but I am pleased to report that some standards are maintained. You cannot but be taken aback at all the notices of what is acceptable clothing to wear in the shop as you have the door opened for you by tail coated young men. They did look smart but I did not tip, as I am sure one of them was chewing gum at the time. They never even doffed their tall hats to me - a Peeress of the Realm no less. You would not see that happening here in Banffshire I can tell you as if there was a single occasion of ill-manners, Sir H would be out of the car and giving the miscreant in question a sharp rap on the back with his walking stick. Manners cost nothing after all.
Your ever friend, Flora
[Editorial Note: RSCDS - Royal Scottish Country Dancing Society]
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004