Letter 14
13/01/23 14:29
My Dearest Bunty,
I am writing this as fast as I can as I want to tell you all about the guests who arrived late last night and want to catch the post before it all closes down for the New Year. Oh where do I start? If I thought the guests we had in the Autumn were bad enough, this crowd from London are ten times worse at first! Loud and brash and very foul mouthed, and that is just the 'wives' from what I can tell.
Five couples arrived by people carrier from Inverness about nine o'clock last evening and luckily Cook had prepared a salad bar and cold confection and it was all beautifully arranged. I had told her not to bother with hot food at all and to have an early night. However the group leader (more on him later) was most put out and demanded at least some hot soup, so that meant I found myself in the kitchen at that time of night heating up my last tins of Poachers Broth, my favourite from Mrs Baxter of Speyside! These soups are so difficult to find these days and I was fairly angry at having to waste such beautiful tins on such as these. Still I must say that they were most grateful. The wives are slips of young things, not a woolly cardigan between them to keep out the cold. I can see that my spare boots and Wellingtons will have to be divided out between the lot of them if they fancy a walk on the grouse moor sometime over the weekend.
I have to describe the type to you: one American who seems to be in charge and his platinum blonde 'wife', although I think she may be real as she sports the most dreadful diamond and emerald cluster on her wedding finger, but a plain band on the other hand - divorcee I think to myself and carry on. The other couples are obviously part of his 'team' in the City, but I cannot figure out if the team is all male or a mixture. You know how young women these days feel they can do as much and as well as a man in business so there may be a female member in the group. I pity her husband though having to mix with this loud lot. I shall investigate further over the weekend. A little too much of the bad language in my opinion, but that is youngsters for you. Sir Hector and I joined them after supper for some late night drinks, and all I can say is that I am glad we got in some decent malt for them, as they were most demanding. Even the ladies asked for whisky, but at least not one asked to have it mixed with coke or lemonade. My spare case of Glenkinchie was cracked open and attacked, to much acclaim I must say. They may not be as bad as I thought! On some probing questions from Sir H we finally managed to get from them what they do in the City. Some American bank and they work in what sounded to me like 'foptions' but as the lad who was explaining this to me had an accent that would not disgrace a barrow-boy in Billingsgate, I was not so sure I was picking it up correctly. Still, he seemed relatively nice and his 'wife' was pretty, in that Essex sort of way. She found the whisky most to her liking I think and had to retire early. I have had the East Wing prepared for them all, far enough away from Sir H and I so we will not be disturbed. I think there are going to be some team building exercises planed for Saturday and Sunday. We shall be at church of course on both days, but I shall be in the turret room with my binoculars having a laugh at them all once we return.
I must say that I did not know the name of the bank they work for but it looks fairly well paid I can tell you. Like dear George IV, we bank with Coutts as you know, and I have never been disappointed in their service, despite them being part of National Westminster. Such a silly name! Sir H in his most Nationalist days had thought about moving to Adam & Co in Edinburgh, but I believe them to be part of the Royal Bank and I am not a fan.
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
I am writing this as fast as I can as I want to tell you all about the guests who arrived late last night and want to catch the post before it all closes down for the New Year. Oh where do I start? If I thought the guests we had in the Autumn were bad enough, this crowd from London are ten times worse at first! Loud and brash and very foul mouthed, and that is just the 'wives' from what I can tell.
Five couples arrived by people carrier from Inverness about nine o'clock last evening and luckily Cook had prepared a salad bar and cold confection and it was all beautifully arranged. I had told her not to bother with hot food at all and to have an early night. However the group leader (more on him later) was most put out and demanded at least some hot soup, so that meant I found myself in the kitchen at that time of night heating up my last tins of Poachers Broth, my favourite from Mrs Baxter of Speyside! These soups are so difficult to find these days and I was fairly angry at having to waste such beautiful tins on such as these. Still I must say that they were most grateful. The wives are slips of young things, not a woolly cardigan between them to keep out the cold. I can see that my spare boots and Wellingtons will have to be divided out between the lot of them if they fancy a walk on the grouse moor sometime over the weekend.
I have to describe the type to you: one American who seems to be in charge and his platinum blonde 'wife', although I think she may be real as she sports the most dreadful diamond and emerald cluster on her wedding finger, but a plain band on the other hand - divorcee I think to myself and carry on. The other couples are obviously part of his 'team' in the City, but I cannot figure out if the team is all male or a mixture. You know how young women these days feel they can do as much and as well as a man in business so there may be a female member in the group. I pity her husband though having to mix with this loud lot. I shall investigate further over the weekend. A little too much of the bad language in my opinion, but that is youngsters for you. Sir Hector and I joined them after supper for some late night drinks, and all I can say is that I am glad we got in some decent malt for them, as they were most demanding. Even the ladies asked for whisky, but at least not one asked to have it mixed with coke or lemonade. My spare case of Glenkinchie was cracked open and attacked, to much acclaim I must say. They may not be as bad as I thought! On some probing questions from Sir H we finally managed to get from them what they do in the City. Some American bank and they work in what sounded to me like 'foptions' but as the lad who was explaining this to me had an accent that would not disgrace a barrow-boy in Billingsgate, I was not so sure I was picking it up correctly. Still, he seemed relatively nice and his 'wife' was pretty, in that Essex sort of way. She found the whisky most to her liking I think and had to retire early. I have had the East Wing prepared for them all, far enough away from Sir H and I so we will not be disturbed. I think there are going to be some team building exercises planed for Saturday and Sunday. We shall be at church of course on both days, but I shall be in the turret room with my binoculars having a laugh at them all once we return.
I must say that I did not know the name of the bank they work for but it looks fairly well paid I can tell you. Like dear George IV, we bank with Coutts as you know, and I have never been disappointed in their service, despite them being part of National Westminster. Such a silly name! Sir H in his most Nationalist days had thought about moving to Adam & Co in Edinburgh, but I believe them to be part of the Royal Bank and I am not a fan.
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004