February 2023
Letter 24
28/02/23 14:33
My Dearest Bunty,
Here I sit looking out of the window of the Drawing Room using the wi-fi connection that we had installed in secret in the Autumn. I must say that the freedom it gives to be sitting anywhere in the House with connection to a computer is so liberating. Sir Hector has no idea what this means, as I can work and watch him as he potters about the grounds as he thinks I am in the back of the House in our Estate Office. I do prefer not to be in there doing personal things as Catriona the Estate Manager is always in a fluster when I am there. It is not as if I am spying on her workload, goodness knows she has quite enough to be getting on with now that the snow has finally gone and some springtime repairs are needed all over the place. I am sorry to report that one of our most beautiful cedar trees did not survive the winter and half of it blew down in one of the gales we had last month. I was sad to see it go but even as a precocious child it was never any good for climbing and we did try, dearest departed Alexander, my brother that you were once upon a time fairly sweet upon. Sometimes I think it a blessing in disguise that he was taken from us so in his prime, but I am not so sure that having you as an in-law would have done much for the maturing of our friendship over the years. I am glad that his name survives in the person of my own dearest beloved son. There is still no news of their return from the Colonies but I am sure that any day now there will be a card or letter from either him or Little Flora telling us which aeroplane they intend to catch back to London. I cannot wait!
On the Estate I have managed to convince Sir Hector that uniforms for our seasonal workers are absolutely important, and we have had various catalogues of work wear delivered over the last week. Some of it is really quite smart and practical and we could even have the Clan crest embroidered on the chest of the shirts and blouses for little additional cost. I think the young and not so young employees will look very smart and respectable in their uniforms. I have had a plan to deduct the cost of the uniform from the firs week's wages but Catriona laughed almost in my face on that suggestion so it looks as if the Estate will suffer the cost in total. Still never mind, the bees are buzzing about testing the air at the moment and hopefully that means a bumper crop of Estate honey, to which I will add a pound in cost this year to make up for the uniforms. Costs have to be met, dearest, as you on your meagre income and little prospect of improvement are only too aware. We have decided to go for the bottle green sweatshirt and lighter green on the shirts and ladies blouses. I am sure it will all look very smart indeed and the coach tours from SAGA and the Young Mothers and Kirk Guilds will be most impressed this year. Cook is getting some major help in the kitchens this year, but we have decided already that menus during the daytimes should be cold - pies, flans etc - with the addition of some hearty soups for those looking for something hot. Last year we were wasting food at a great rate with the cannelloni and lasagnes having to be thrown to the local pigs. Cook has suggested getting in a professional bread maker as seemingly on the other estates, home made bread is a great money-spinner and I have to agree that there is nothing to encourage a healthy appetite than the smell of home made bread, cakes and scones just coming out of the oven. We have had the traveller from the dried fruit agents in Aberdeen calling again and again forcing us to up our order for sultanas and dates and currants. I hope the currants are decent this year, as they seemed to settle on the bottom of every cake and scone I had a taste of, or perhaps Old Cook was digging her heels in and thinking of Bournemouth!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
Here I sit looking out of the window of the Drawing Room using the wi-fi connection that we had installed in secret in the Autumn. I must say that the freedom it gives to be sitting anywhere in the House with connection to a computer is so liberating. Sir Hector has no idea what this means, as I can work and watch him as he potters about the grounds as he thinks I am in the back of the House in our Estate Office. I do prefer not to be in there doing personal things as Catriona the Estate Manager is always in a fluster when I am there. It is not as if I am spying on her workload, goodness knows she has quite enough to be getting on with now that the snow has finally gone and some springtime repairs are needed all over the place. I am sorry to report that one of our most beautiful cedar trees did not survive the winter and half of it blew down in one of the gales we had last month. I was sad to see it go but even as a precocious child it was never any good for climbing and we did try, dearest departed Alexander, my brother that you were once upon a time fairly sweet upon. Sometimes I think it a blessing in disguise that he was taken from us so in his prime, but I am not so sure that having you as an in-law would have done much for the maturing of our friendship over the years. I am glad that his name survives in the person of my own dearest beloved son. There is still no news of their return from the Colonies but I am sure that any day now there will be a card or letter from either him or Little Flora telling us which aeroplane they intend to catch back to London. I cannot wait!
On the Estate I have managed to convince Sir Hector that uniforms for our seasonal workers are absolutely important, and we have had various catalogues of work wear delivered over the last week. Some of it is really quite smart and practical and we could even have the Clan crest embroidered on the chest of the shirts and blouses for little additional cost. I think the young and not so young employees will look very smart and respectable in their uniforms. I have had a plan to deduct the cost of the uniform from the firs week's wages but Catriona laughed almost in my face on that suggestion so it looks as if the Estate will suffer the cost in total. Still never mind, the bees are buzzing about testing the air at the moment and hopefully that means a bumper crop of Estate honey, to which I will add a pound in cost this year to make up for the uniforms. Costs have to be met, dearest, as you on your meagre income and little prospect of improvement are only too aware. We have decided to go for the bottle green sweatshirt and lighter green on the shirts and ladies blouses. I am sure it will all look very smart indeed and the coach tours from SAGA and the Young Mothers and Kirk Guilds will be most impressed this year. Cook is getting some major help in the kitchens this year, but we have decided already that menus during the daytimes should be cold - pies, flans etc - with the addition of some hearty soups for those looking for something hot. Last year we were wasting food at a great rate with the cannelloni and lasagnes having to be thrown to the local pigs. Cook has suggested getting in a professional bread maker as seemingly on the other estates, home made bread is a great money-spinner and I have to agree that there is nothing to encourage a healthy appetite than the smell of home made bread, cakes and scones just coming out of the oven. We have had the traveller from the dried fruit agents in Aberdeen calling again and again forcing us to up our order for sultanas and dates and currants. I hope the currants are decent this year, as they seemed to settle on the bottom of every cake and scone I had a taste of, or perhaps Old Cook was digging her heels in and thinking of Bournemouth!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
Letter 23
21/02/23 14:33
My Dearest Bunty,
Not that I was expecting to be invited to the Royal Wedding in any case, but I am sure there has been a real oversight in the Royal household again as I seem to be out of even the Scottish celebration list this time around. Oh how Rothsay's last wedding was celebrated here on the Estate, as was the rejoicing at the birth announcements for the two boys. How times have changed, and this time he is to be married in a civil ceremony, hidden mostly from view. I am sure this will make him happy finally as he has the loneliest job in the world. How dreadful to know that you are without promotion prospects until your beloved mother passes on? That cannot be healthy to live under that veil, especially since our Dear Queen is doing such a wonderful job and seems to be the picture of health as she approaches 79 years of age. I know we have some way to go before reaching that number, dear Bunty, but it is not at all that far off, and the years pass with ever quickening pace. It seems only yesterday that I was throwing a ball to the children in the front lawn, and in a twinkling of an eye they are grown up and gone of to find their own adventures.
Writing that word reminds me of that Dymphna girl with the flame hair we had in our set at school. I don't know why she popped into my head the other day, but I was watching Greer Garson's performance in 'Random Harvest' on TCM the other afternoon and although this is a black and white picture (what daddy used to call 'a woman's picture') I remembered that she had the most wonderful flame hair as well. Returning to Dymphna, well it seems that she did in fact do well in life and is now on Husband Number Three! Can you believe it? Numbers One and Two died of natural causes (I hear from my sources still in contact with her), that cause being old age and having the burden of a huge bank account to worry about, whilst Number three seems to be a stable sort but ever so much younger than her. How does she do it? She always seemed so tame and meek, but I guess those are the ones that men fall for the quickest! I always thought that girls with red hair had such a disadvantage in life, being forever looking like matchsticks about to be struck, but as time passes I see that actually this is an asset to a woman. I may even think of getting a little 'touch up' myself, as this brown is getting a little dowdy and I am far too old to copy Anne Widdicombe and become a blonde. We shall see what the season ahead brings. I shudder to think that I may be white haired under this all, but then I remark on how steely and smart your own grey hair is - efficient, stalwart but just a little too boring for me. I have my position as Chief of the clan to think of and nobody wants to see a grey haired old woman sitting at high table or attending the Games!
This year I have had an invitation from Clan Deere (Great Lakes Division) to attend their Summer Highland Games. I shall see if the estate funds will be able to cope with a trip for me. I shall not take Sir Hector with me this year as Americans get really confused with him having a different name to me and think that he is the Chief! That has to be nipped in the bud as far as I am concerned. I am a Lady, Chief and Peeress in my own right and I am subject to no man. Goodness I sound like a militant Liberationist from 1972! You know what I mean. I notice that London has been lucky to avoid most of the bad weather the rest of us have suffered. I think that could be in part due to all the hot air going about with the Olympic 2012 bid. It would be good to have the Olympics in the UK again but I am not sure that London is the best place, given all the transport problems, but I wait to be corrected on that issue, as on so many others!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
Not that I was expecting to be invited to the Royal Wedding in any case, but I am sure there has been a real oversight in the Royal household again as I seem to be out of even the Scottish celebration list this time around. Oh how Rothsay's last wedding was celebrated here on the Estate, as was the rejoicing at the birth announcements for the two boys. How times have changed, and this time he is to be married in a civil ceremony, hidden mostly from view. I am sure this will make him happy finally as he has the loneliest job in the world. How dreadful to know that you are without promotion prospects until your beloved mother passes on? That cannot be healthy to live under that veil, especially since our Dear Queen is doing such a wonderful job and seems to be the picture of health as she approaches 79 years of age. I know we have some way to go before reaching that number, dear Bunty, but it is not at all that far off, and the years pass with ever quickening pace. It seems only yesterday that I was throwing a ball to the children in the front lawn, and in a twinkling of an eye they are grown up and gone of to find their own adventures.
Writing that word reminds me of that Dymphna girl with the flame hair we had in our set at school. I don't know why she popped into my head the other day, but I was watching Greer Garson's performance in 'Random Harvest' on TCM the other afternoon and although this is a black and white picture (what daddy used to call 'a woman's picture') I remembered that she had the most wonderful flame hair as well. Returning to Dymphna, well it seems that she did in fact do well in life and is now on Husband Number Three! Can you believe it? Numbers One and Two died of natural causes (I hear from my sources still in contact with her), that cause being old age and having the burden of a huge bank account to worry about, whilst Number three seems to be a stable sort but ever so much younger than her. How does she do it? She always seemed so tame and meek, but I guess those are the ones that men fall for the quickest! I always thought that girls with red hair had such a disadvantage in life, being forever looking like matchsticks about to be struck, but as time passes I see that actually this is an asset to a woman. I may even think of getting a little 'touch up' myself, as this brown is getting a little dowdy and I am far too old to copy Anne Widdicombe and become a blonde. We shall see what the season ahead brings. I shudder to think that I may be white haired under this all, but then I remark on how steely and smart your own grey hair is - efficient, stalwart but just a little too boring for me. I have my position as Chief of the clan to think of and nobody wants to see a grey haired old woman sitting at high table or attending the Games!
This year I have had an invitation from Clan Deere (Great Lakes Division) to attend their Summer Highland Games. I shall see if the estate funds will be able to cope with a trip for me. I shall not take Sir Hector with me this year as Americans get really confused with him having a different name to me and think that he is the Chief! That has to be nipped in the bud as far as I am concerned. I am a Lady, Chief and Peeress in my own right and I am subject to no man. Goodness I sound like a militant Liberationist from 1972! You know what I mean. I notice that London has been lucky to avoid most of the bad weather the rest of us have suffered. I think that could be in part due to all the hot air going about with the Olympic 2012 bid. It would be good to have the Olympics in the UK again but I am not sure that London is the best place, given all the transport problems, but I wait to be corrected on that issue, as on so many others!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
Letter 22
18/02/23 14:29
My Dearest Bunty,
Sir Hector has finally come round to the fact that his smoking is not good for his health and to encourage him, I have decided to stop as well. I have seen advertisements on the television for aids to stop but can you see me walking about the Estate chewing gum or indeed with bits of plastic attached to me? We will be doing it without help, and I have packed away my Rothmans of Pall Mall forever. I am sure that after all these years it will be a struggle but I never was a heavy smoker, unlike or dear departed King George. Brisk country walks should make Sir H and I too tired to raise a Swan Vesta to our habit and I believe that even at this stage of life giving up can help extend the life! You have been very wise in never having taken up the weed.
It is that time of the year again where we are about to interview the seasonal staff. I have talked Sir H around to the issue of uniforms this year but there is little point in ordering at present until we see the shape, size and gender of our staff. I have suggested Racing Green as a colour (very National Trust I know) with the crest of either Sir H's family or of my own Deerestalker clan. Since the house is mine it really should be the Clan crest, but the grounds are mainly from Sir H's inheritance so I will grudgingly give in on that point if necessary. You never know, he may never even bring it up. We have been inundated with catalogues from work wear suppliers touting for business but our small foray into employment for the summer will only be limited to 15-20 people at the most so we cannot take advantage of the bulk discounts. I did suggest that we start to sell sweatshirts as souvenirs of the Estate and that the seasonal staff be kitted out in these but Sir H was adamant that the staff does not look overly casual. I cannot see some of the young men from the village in a shirt and tie during the summer, but I see that there is a point to be made and Sir H is most definitely making it!
We have suffered a really cold snap again just as I though the winter was coming to an end. There is only one good thing about that and that is the frost has sweetened up our root vegetables which are being lovingly prepared by New Cook in a whole range of warming winter wonders from the kitchen. We are being really spoiled here, and I enclose a recipe for a hearty stew that New Cook kindly gave me the other day. Your Countess could do with feeding up over the winter I know and this should do the trick!
The new Vicar called round the other day for afternoon tea. He really is the most charming young man, once you get around the motorcycle leathers and far too short hair. He seems bright and enthusiastic and I now think he will make a decent replacement for Dr Williams, whom I hear is doing well in his new parish in England. He has some new ideas for galvanising the local Episcopal community which will be interesting to see developing, but he is one of those modernisers and when I asked him about his views on women priests and indeed on women elected to the rank of bishop he was most modern. Some things should be left alone I fear. I remember when the Kirk placed a woman minister locally some years back. I had to attend a service just to hear her preach and she was I admit very good. So good that she was soon moved to an inner city Kirk so I was not able to get much out of her stay here. There are so many opportunities for women these days. A good thing I know, as even now I wish I had had the strength and brains to study more than Classics at Oxford all those years ago. I would love to have become a doctor as you remember, but marriage and estate and family came first for me, so like many of our station (except for you dear). Duty comes in many shapes and sizes,
does it not?
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
Sir Hector has finally come round to the fact that his smoking is not good for his health and to encourage him, I have decided to stop as well. I have seen advertisements on the television for aids to stop but can you see me walking about the Estate chewing gum or indeed with bits of plastic attached to me? We will be doing it without help, and I have packed away my Rothmans of Pall Mall forever. I am sure that after all these years it will be a struggle but I never was a heavy smoker, unlike or dear departed King George. Brisk country walks should make Sir H and I too tired to raise a Swan Vesta to our habit and I believe that even at this stage of life giving up can help extend the life! You have been very wise in never having taken up the weed.
It is that time of the year again where we are about to interview the seasonal staff. I have talked Sir H around to the issue of uniforms this year but there is little point in ordering at present until we see the shape, size and gender of our staff. I have suggested Racing Green as a colour (very National Trust I know) with the crest of either Sir H's family or of my own Deerestalker clan. Since the house is mine it really should be the Clan crest, but the grounds are mainly from Sir H's inheritance so I will grudgingly give in on that point if necessary. You never know, he may never even bring it up. We have been inundated with catalogues from work wear suppliers touting for business but our small foray into employment for the summer will only be limited to 15-20 people at the most so we cannot take advantage of the bulk discounts. I did suggest that we start to sell sweatshirts as souvenirs of the Estate and that the seasonal staff be kitted out in these but Sir H was adamant that the staff does not look overly casual. I cannot see some of the young men from the village in a shirt and tie during the summer, but I see that there is a point to be made and Sir H is most definitely making it!
We have suffered a really cold snap again just as I though the winter was coming to an end. There is only one good thing about that and that is the frost has sweetened up our root vegetables which are being lovingly prepared by New Cook in a whole range of warming winter wonders from the kitchen. We are being really spoiled here, and I enclose a recipe for a hearty stew that New Cook kindly gave me the other day. Your Countess could do with feeding up over the winter I know and this should do the trick!
The new Vicar called round the other day for afternoon tea. He really is the most charming young man, once you get around the motorcycle leathers and far too short hair. He seems bright and enthusiastic and I now think he will make a decent replacement for Dr Williams, whom I hear is doing well in his new parish in England. He has some new ideas for galvanising the local Episcopal community which will be interesting to see developing, but he is one of those modernisers and when I asked him about his views on women priests and indeed on women elected to the rank of bishop he was most modern. Some things should be left alone I fear. I remember when the Kirk placed a woman minister locally some years back. I had to attend a service just to hear her preach and she was I admit very good. So good that she was soon moved to an inner city Kirk so I was not able to get much out of her stay here. There are so many opportunities for women these days. A good thing I know, as even now I wish I had had the strength and brains to study more than Classics at Oxford all those years ago. I would love to have become a doctor as you remember, but marriage and estate and family came first for me, so like many of our station (except for you dear). Duty comes in many shapes and sizes,
does it not?
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
Letter 21
14/02/23 14:29
My Dearest Bunty,
What a carry on in the House today! As I write Sir Hector is stamping about in the rose bed and I am sure there is steam coming out of his ears! We are in a dreadful state and I have summoned the doctor to the house as soon as he is able. It is the Worcester Sauce Food Scare I am talking about that the Food Standards Agency has announced today. Thankfully Sir H and I have broadband access and we were able to see a list of the products that have been contaminated by 'Sudan I' and who would have thought that our dear Sauce of choice on toasted cheese would be contaminated? And by something used to polish my favourite oxblood brogues of all things. I shall never look on those sensible shoes in the same light ever again.
Not only that but Sir H has had to confess to having a stock of Pot Noodles in one of the potting sheds and these too are not fit for human consumption. He did not take it well when I asked if they EVER have been safe for consumption. I ask you! All those wonderful meals prepared by Dear Cook and New Cook are not enough for him. I often wonder if these snack foods contain crack cocaine or indeed nicotine, as they are addictive to the masses. I myself have never knowingly eaten from one of these 'boil-kettle-wait-eat' dishes and now I shall never even look at them. However I am devastated that Worcester Sauce has been contaminated too, it is my favourite as you know: sprinkled lightly across best Scottish Cheddar late in the evening during the winter. Indeed Sir H swears that it is the secret ingredient for curing a potential sore head from too many malts, but I am not sure! There will be very little left for us to be able to eat safely if these food scares carry on and indeed how I long for some potted hough in little plastic dishes that the local butcher used to create until the last Foot and Mouth scare. The world is going mad! I even here that there are now Ethiopian restaurants springing up in London these days. I could never bring myself to eat in a restaurant offering fare from a country so recently devastated by plague and famine. It just does not seem proper.
This letter is turning out to be all about food so I will tell you that New Cook has turned out to be a diamond in the rough and her skills with pot and pan and pickling jar are even putting Dear Cook to shame. What great dishes she has prepared for us over the last weeks and she has not turned out to be one of those secret health cooks, as there is not a single dish where cream could be spared that she does not lavish with love, attention and double creams! I cannot wait to see what her Eve's and Summer Puddings will be like as these simple but delicious puddings remain Sir H's favourite in the long summer evenings. I only hope that our fruit bushes and orchard can sustain her obvious pudding skills!
I shall have to run down to Mrs Sian at the Post Office with the list of foodstuffs contaminated and help her take them off the shelves if she has any. Perhaps I shall also encourage her not to restock safe versions of the Pot Noodle variety, but if she has to, then I shall insist that she does NOT push them on to Sir H, the silly old fool that he is. Men are such strange creatures of habit, but how would you know about that? Take it from me they are, but this habit will be more difficult to wean him from than those dreadful Benson & Hedges he used to smoke before I insisted he move to a less tarry version, and although this has not cleared his chest, at least I know there are a few more good years left in him now that could have been taken from me if he had kept on them. Thankfully Little Flora and Young Alexander are not smokers or I would spend my last years worrying about them and addictions, but they seem only addicted to world travel and avoiding a career choices!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
What a carry on in the House today! As I write Sir Hector is stamping about in the rose bed and I am sure there is steam coming out of his ears! We are in a dreadful state and I have summoned the doctor to the house as soon as he is able. It is the Worcester Sauce Food Scare I am talking about that the Food Standards Agency has announced today. Thankfully Sir H and I have broadband access and we were able to see a list of the products that have been contaminated by 'Sudan I' and who would have thought that our dear Sauce of choice on toasted cheese would be contaminated? And by something used to polish my favourite oxblood brogues of all things. I shall never look on those sensible shoes in the same light ever again.
Not only that but Sir H has had to confess to having a stock of Pot Noodles in one of the potting sheds and these too are not fit for human consumption. He did not take it well when I asked if they EVER have been safe for consumption. I ask you! All those wonderful meals prepared by Dear Cook and New Cook are not enough for him. I often wonder if these snack foods contain crack cocaine or indeed nicotine, as they are addictive to the masses. I myself have never knowingly eaten from one of these 'boil-kettle-wait-eat' dishes and now I shall never even look at them. However I am devastated that Worcester Sauce has been contaminated too, it is my favourite as you know: sprinkled lightly across best Scottish Cheddar late in the evening during the winter. Indeed Sir H swears that it is the secret ingredient for curing a potential sore head from too many malts, but I am not sure! There will be very little left for us to be able to eat safely if these food scares carry on and indeed how I long for some potted hough in little plastic dishes that the local butcher used to create until the last Foot and Mouth scare. The world is going mad! I even here that there are now Ethiopian restaurants springing up in London these days. I could never bring myself to eat in a restaurant offering fare from a country so recently devastated by plague and famine. It just does not seem proper.
This letter is turning out to be all about food so I will tell you that New Cook has turned out to be a diamond in the rough and her skills with pot and pan and pickling jar are even putting Dear Cook to shame. What great dishes she has prepared for us over the last weeks and she has not turned out to be one of those secret health cooks, as there is not a single dish where cream could be spared that she does not lavish with love, attention and double creams! I cannot wait to see what her Eve's and Summer Puddings will be like as these simple but delicious puddings remain Sir H's favourite in the long summer evenings. I only hope that our fruit bushes and orchard can sustain her obvious pudding skills!
I shall have to run down to Mrs Sian at the Post Office with the list of foodstuffs contaminated and help her take them off the shelves if she has any. Perhaps I shall also encourage her not to restock safe versions of the Pot Noodle variety, but if she has to, then I shall insist that she does NOT push them on to Sir H, the silly old fool that he is. Men are such strange creatures of habit, but how would you know about that? Take it from me they are, but this habit will be more difficult to wean him from than those dreadful Benson & Hedges he used to smoke before I insisted he move to a less tarry version, and although this has not cleared his chest, at least I know there are a few more good years left in him now that could have been taken from me if he had kept on them. Thankfully Little Flora and Young Alexander are not smokers or I would spend my last years worrying about them and addictions, but they seem only addicted to world travel and avoiding a career choices!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
Letter 20
11/02/23 14:29
My Dearest Bunty,
I have to say that this letter comes from the heart and I am feeling down in the dumps at the moment. This could be a cross between the long winter we are having (even though it has been mild so far) and the lack of invitations following our snubbing at Burns Night. I have been gracious enough to say I have forgiven them all for not inviting me, but I cannot forgive no invitations to Sir Hector himself. He has taken to over smoking that old Churchwarden of his. It was bad enough in the Silk Drawing Room but now he has taken to smoking it next to a peat fire in the Library almost first thing in the morning. I can see this has been a shock to him. Still I shall endeavour to snap him out of this as it will soon be time for the Spring Planting and preparations of the flower garden in time for the influx of summer visitors and that should keep his mind off that Dark January Day. I have busied myself with ideas for whom to employ from the local village to man (or woman) the various seasonal positions in the Estate this year. I have my favourites as always but I fear that some of the older ones are getting on a bit and I expect that if I do not get over my reticence in employing some of the local youngsters soon then there will be no pool of labour to fish! I have decided not to put an advertisement in the Labour Exchange window this year but will go on word of mouth. Dear Cook has left me copious notes on the history and lineage of some of the local slightly-better families and I am sure some son or daughter will leap at the chance of coming to work for me in the Big House!
Dear Cook telephoned last week to say she has settled down with her relatives and is looking forward to taking her time in exploring the South Coast of England. It sounded to me as if she was getting homesick for the Estate but I am sure that was just crackling on the line. Did I tell you that the Estate is adding its voice to the call for upgrading the telephone exchange to enable broadband to be provided? I was and still am against this for the villagers, as I cannot see any good coming out of their access being speeded up on the internet. I read in the Press and Journal, not bought by me but was left in the doctor's surgery when I went to collect my own prescription last week, that the Western Isles are to be the testing ground for a wireless network for local communities. It will be nice to see that old fashioned word 'wireless' coming back into use as I hated when we stopped using it and moved to 'transistor' and 'tranny' although I am well aware of the slang and common usage of the latter abbreviation. I am a woman of the world, and of BBC Choice before it became BBC3 on the digital television. How I used to secretly love those saucy shows late at night with my cocoa and a Flake to dip in it, laughing at those little fifteen minute sketches of that dreadful common prostitute, 'Terry McIntyre' and her dysfunctional friends and family. Glasgow is such a dreadful place if it is filled with lots of those young strumpets with pulled back hair and fake tan that only reaches the base of their necks. How dear Glasgow is often in my thoughts these days, turning into a futuristic city with all that aluminium and glass along the Clydeside - quite breathtaking on my last trip there, and to see that at last the place where that old con-man Sir Hugh had his drapery has been turned into something nice. Who would have thought that a nice family man like him would have been a ladies man and rogue to boot? I was quite taken aback with the scandals about him and although I secretly admired him when we were young, a Gentleman in Trade is still in Trade and not one to waste too much time on, especially being associated so clearly with the Clan and the House as I was to be. I am glad I set my sights on Sir H and gripped on tightly!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
I have to say that this letter comes from the heart and I am feeling down in the dumps at the moment. This could be a cross between the long winter we are having (even though it has been mild so far) and the lack of invitations following our snubbing at Burns Night. I have been gracious enough to say I have forgiven them all for not inviting me, but I cannot forgive no invitations to Sir Hector himself. He has taken to over smoking that old Churchwarden of his. It was bad enough in the Silk Drawing Room but now he has taken to smoking it next to a peat fire in the Library almost first thing in the morning. I can see this has been a shock to him. Still I shall endeavour to snap him out of this as it will soon be time for the Spring Planting and preparations of the flower garden in time for the influx of summer visitors and that should keep his mind off that Dark January Day. I have busied myself with ideas for whom to employ from the local village to man (or woman) the various seasonal positions in the Estate this year. I have my favourites as always but I fear that some of the older ones are getting on a bit and I expect that if I do not get over my reticence in employing some of the local youngsters soon then there will be no pool of labour to fish! I have decided not to put an advertisement in the Labour Exchange window this year but will go on word of mouth. Dear Cook has left me copious notes on the history and lineage of some of the local slightly-better families and I am sure some son or daughter will leap at the chance of coming to work for me in the Big House!
Dear Cook telephoned last week to say she has settled down with her relatives and is looking forward to taking her time in exploring the South Coast of England. It sounded to me as if she was getting homesick for the Estate but I am sure that was just crackling on the line. Did I tell you that the Estate is adding its voice to the call for upgrading the telephone exchange to enable broadband to be provided? I was and still am against this for the villagers, as I cannot see any good coming out of their access being speeded up on the internet. I read in the Press and Journal, not bought by me but was left in the doctor's surgery when I went to collect my own prescription last week, that the Western Isles are to be the testing ground for a wireless network for local communities. It will be nice to see that old fashioned word 'wireless' coming back into use as I hated when we stopped using it and moved to 'transistor' and 'tranny' although I am well aware of the slang and common usage of the latter abbreviation. I am a woman of the world, and of BBC Choice before it became BBC3 on the digital television. How I used to secretly love those saucy shows late at night with my cocoa and a Flake to dip in it, laughing at those little fifteen minute sketches of that dreadful common prostitute, 'Terry McIntyre' and her dysfunctional friends and family. Glasgow is such a dreadful place if it is filled with lots of those young strumpets with pulled back hair and fake tan that only reaches the base of their necks. How dear Glasgow is often in my thoughts these days, turning into a futuristic city with all that aluminium and glass along the Clydeside - quite breathtaking on my last trip there, and to see that at last the place where that old con-man Sir Hugh had his drapery has been turned into something nice. Who would have thought that a nice family man like him would have been a ladies man and rogue to boot? I was quite taken aback with the scandals about him and although I secretly admired him when we were young, a Gentleman in Trade is still in Trade and not one to waste too much time on, especially being associated so clearly with the Clan and the House as I was to be. I am glad I set my sights on Sir H and gripped on tightly!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
Letter 19
04/02/23 14:33
My Dearest Bunty,
Burns Night this year is going to be a lonely affair as most of the guests we have asked for our traditional celebration are previously engaged. What a shame! Last year I was the toast of the night with my 'Reply to the Address to the Lassies' and although I am assured that I did not make offence, and that my humour was most appropriate, I do get the feeling that I am being Sent to Coventry this year by the county Worthies! We have not been invited to any other event that night so I think we are being snubbed. And after us throwing the Hogmanay Party of the decade too!
I shall not take this to heart, dear, as there are those about who NEVER get an invitation to any social event throughout the year. I am thinking of you, sadly, when I write that sentence, as your days of socialising seem to be over now that you are permanently tied to the Countess with all her problems. What a shame it is. Still, you were never that sociable when we were slips of girls and always that wallflower at the dances and parties put on for us to attend. I know your heart was set on James MacDonald, but when he ran off with that Indian princess back to Manipur, you should have set your cap at someone else rather than seething and stewing in resentment. Oh heartbreak! Is it not a terrible thing? Some of the greatest poets in English have written their finest works when under the broken arrow of Cupid - you should have taken a leaf from their book and carried on but no you had to start wearing sensible shoes and high necked lace blouses in cream. At least you did not move to those dreadful floral things you now wear as day attire! I would have dropped you then and there if you had. Here am I writing about sensible shoes when I have cupboards filled with them now! Still I do like my court heel for the days when I aught to be presentable and court shoes do not go with winter tweeds at all. I have my ladies brogues for that, and well heeled I may add.
Sir Hector and I were in Inverness the other day and attended a harp recital in one of the halls there. Not classical I am glad to say but some young people with clarsachs - how I hate using the English plural for that wonderful instrument, but then you were not blessed to come from a part of the country where the Language of the Angels is still spoken in pockets. The playing was quite delightful with lilting slow airs and rousing Strathspeys and Marches, whilst one of the young men sang songs of longing and parting in the most tear producing tenor whilst playing accompaniment on his instrument. I well remember Nanny playing her instrument. She was a stern governess for us young Deerestalkers I can tell you, but that is Harris folk for you. I cannot remember ever seeing her smile. She had the same expression from the moment she was employed until the day we Deerestalkers headed off to boarding school. She headed back in her black cardigan to Harris I believe and took up with some Tweed weaver, to the shock of my beloved parents I may add. Who would have thought it? I guess she was taken in by that lovely Hearrach lilt and the dark evenings in the winter.
I think I shall arrange a little musical evening next month and invite Rev Battershaw, the new vicar I mentioned before, along to hear some traditional Scottish music. I am sure he would enjoy that and it would give me a chance to give him some local advice and colour. I am sure he is settling in well, but I hear that he now drives about the parish on a motorbike, totally in leather. What the helmet will do for his cropped hair and stubbly beard I shall not know but as long as he looks presentable at Divine Office I shall not care. The single ladies on the Estate are still vying for his attention I can tell you but he has not made a single convert. It is such a worry I can tell you and I was thinking of offering to have his laundry done by our own Housekeeper. She never has enough to do.
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
Burns Night this year is going to be a lonely affair as most of the guests we have asked for our traditional celebration are previously engaged. What a shame! Last year I was the toast of the night with my 'Reply to the Address to the Lassies' and although I am assured that I did not make offence, and that my humour was most appropriate, I do get the feeling that I am being Sent to Coventry this year by the county Worthies! We have not been invited to any other event that night so I think we are being snubbed. And after us throwing the Hogmanay Party of the decade too!
I shall not take this to heart, dear, as there are those about who NEVER get an invitation to any social event throughout the year. I am thinking of you, sadly, when I write that sentence, as your days of socialising seem to be over now that you are permanently tied to the Countess with all her problems. What a shame it is. Still, you were never that sociable when we were slips of girls and always that wallflower at the dances and parties put on for us to attend. I know your heart was set on James MacDonald, but when he ran off with that Indian princess back to Manipur, you should have set your cap at someone else rather than seething and stewing in resentment. Oh heartbreak! Is it not a terrible thing? Some of the greatest poets in English have written their finest works when under the broken arrow of Cupid - you should have taken a leaf from their book and carried on but no you had to start wearing sensible shoes and high necked lace blouses in cream. At least you did not move to those dreadful floral things you now wear as day attire! I would have dropped you then and there if you had. Here am I writing about sensible shoes when I have cupboards filled with them now! Still I do like my court heel for the days when I aught to be presentable and court shoes do not go with winter tweeds at all. I have my ladies brogues for that, and well heeled I may add.
Sir Hector and I were in Inverness the other day and attended a harp recital in one of the halls there. Not classical I am glad to say but some young people with clarsachs - how I hate using the English plural for that wonderful instrument, but then you were not blessed to come from a part of the country where the Language of the Angels is still spoken in pockets. The playing was quite delightful with lilting slow airs and rousing Strathspeys and Marches, whilst one of the young men sang songs of longing and parting in the most tear producing tenor whilst playing accompaniment on his instrument. I well remember Nanny playing her instrument. She was a stern governess for us young Deerestalkers I can tell you, but that is Harris folk for you. I cannot remember ever seeing her smile. She had the same expression from the moment she was employed until the day we Deerestalkers headed off to boarding school. She headed back in her black cardigan to Harris I believe and took up with some Tweed weaver, to the shock of my beloved parents I may add. Who would have thought it? I guess she was taken in by that lovely Hearrach lilt and the dark evenings in the winter.
I think I shall arrange a little musical evening next month and invite Rev Battershaw, the new vicar I mentioned before, along to hear some traditional Scottish music. I am sure he would enjoy that and it would give me a chance to give him some local advice and colour. I am sure he is settling in well, but I hear that he now drives about the parish on a motorbike, totally in leather. What the helmet will do for his cropped hair and stubbly beard I shall not know but as long as he looks presentable at Divine Office I shall not care. The single ladies on the Estate are still vying for his attention I can tell you but he has not made a single convert. It is such a worry I can tell you and I was thinking of offering to have his laundry done by our own Housekeeper. She never has enough to do.
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
Letter 18
01/02/23 14:29
My Dearest Bunty,
I was gladdened to hear that the Countess has made a full recovery, what a wonder modern medicine can be! I am sure you are filling her up with decent broths taken from Clare MacDonald of MacDonald's cookbooks. What a shame to see someone of her stature reduced to running a catering establishment, but I believe her recipes are quite delicious. Our new cook has started and seems to be settling in although there was a bit of a clash of personalities between her and Catriona, our sturdy Estate Manager, after her first few days. Needless to say it was all over nothing and I am sure that the air has been cleaned. You know what they say about two women in the same kitchen - that is why I avoid going into the place, despite my late visit before Hogmanay to get the American bankers some soup. Did I tell you that we received a lovely letter on headed paper from the leader of the group? He was most enthusiastic about the time they spent in our little home and he says he will be brining his US boss up the next time he comes over from Chicago. At least I shall have something in common with him, as I loved the reception I got at the Chicago Highland Games when I was there in 1984 or 1985. Such kindness, and such a large amount of dollars donated to the Deerestalker Trust Fund! I was most impressed.
Such a lot has been going on recently. Dr Williams took his translation to Cornwall after all and the Primus of Scotland installed his replacement last Sunday. The new Episcopal vicar looks to me to be on the slight side and I hope he survives the cold blasts of weather and of suggestion (from me of course) about the Prayer book. You know how I love 'The Book of Common Prayer' and I am not at all happy with the new happy-clappy form of Sunday worship that the young people prefer. Still, his inaugural sermon was fairly good, not too many Biblical references as Dr Williams did, but wholesome and hearty none the less. The Primus turned down our invitation to come to tea after the ceremony, preferring to help Rev Battershaw to settle in to the vicarage. Rev Battershaw is divorced, can you believe it? She ran off with a Methodist I believe. No shame.
Still, a young man as Rev Battershaw will not be on his own for long as already I see some heads turning during service and some of the younger, and not so young, in the congregation seem to be very taken with his Rugby League physique. I shall have to invite him up for afternoon tea soon to find out more about him and his family. Battershaw is not a landed name from what I know, and perhaps you coming from minor landed stock will have heard more about his family. He originates from Yorkshire, but I shall not hold that against him unless proved otherwise. I am sure he will do well for increasing the numbers attending the Sunday service.
His arrival has put some of the young men in the village out of sorts. The unkindest ones are taken aback about his appearance and arrival and seeming attraction to the ladies in the village! Well and good I say as some of them need to smarten up their appearance to attract the fairer sex. Far too many youths walking about in hooded sweatshirts and tops for my liking. Just like a huddle of Franciscan monks sometimes in the Post Office where many of them cash their Giro cheques from Mr Gordon Brown. I shudder to think that some of these will be applying for the seasonal jobs on the Estate come the springtime as some of the SAGA coach party ladies will be most put out by the appearance of them. I shall suggest to Sir Hector that this year we formalise a uniform, even if it is from Alexander's Workwear and is polyester, at least with the facial piercing removed some of them will smarten up quite well.
There has been a change in the weather on the Estate and the damp days are still with us. I long for the first shoot of bluebell to appear in the woods as that sees the start of our money-making schemes for the Summer! And I say this quietly, I think it is going to be a bumper year.
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
I was gladdened to hear that the Countess has made a full recovery, what a wonder modern medicine can be! I am sure you are filling her up with decent broths taken from Clare MacDonald of MacDonald's cookbooks. What a shame to see someone of her stature reduced to running a catering establishment, but I believe her recipes are quite delicious. Our new cook has started and seems to be settling in although there was a bit of a clash of personalities between her and Catriona, our sturdy Estate Manager, after her first few days. Needless to say it was all over nothing and I am sure that the air has been cleaned. You know what they say about two women in the same kitchen - that is why I avoid going into the place, despite my late visit before Hogmanay to get the American bankers some soup. Did I tell you that we received a lovely letter on headed paper from the leader of the group? He was most enthusiastic about the time they spent in our little home and he says he will be brining his US boss up the next time he comes over from Chicago. At least I shall have something in common with him, as I loved the reception I got at the Chicago Highland Games when I was there in 1984 or 1985. Such kindness, and such a large amount of dollars donated to the Deerestalker Trust Fund! I was most impressed.
Such a lot has been going on recently. Dr Williams took his translation to Cornwall after all and the Primus of Scotland installed his replacement last Sunday. The new Episcopal vicar looks to me to be on the slight side and I hope he survives the cold blasts of weather and of suggestion (from me of course) about the Prayer book. You know how I love 'The Book of Common Prayer' and I am not at all happy with the new happy-clappy form of Sunday worship that the young people prefer. Still, his inaugural sermon was fairly good, not too many Biblical references as Dr Williams did, but wholesome and hearty none the less. The Primus turned down our invitation to come to tea after the ceremony, preferring to help Rev Battershaw to settle in to the vicarage. Rev Battershaw is divorced, can you believe it? She ran off with a Methodist I believe. No shame.
Still, a young man as Rev Battershaw will not be on his own for long as already I see some heads turning during service and some of the younger, and not so young, in the congregation seem to be very taken with his Rugby League physique. I shall have to invite him up for afternoon tea soon to find out more about him and his family. Battershaw is not a landed name from what I know, and perhaps you coming from minor landed stock will have heard more about his family. He originates from Yorkshire, but I shall not hold that against him unless proved otherwise. I am sure he will do well for increasing the numbers attending the Sunday service.
His arrival has put some of the young men in the village out of sorts. The unkindest ones are taken aback about his appearance and arrival and seeming attraction to the ladies in the village! Well and good I say as some of them need to smarten up their appearance to attract the fairer sex. Far too many youths walking about in hooded sweatshirts and tops for my liking. Just like a huddle of Franciscan monks sometimes in the Post Office where many of them cash their Giro cheques from Mr Gordon Brown. I shudder to think that some of these will be applying for the seasonal jobs on the Estate come the springtime as some of the SAGA coach party ladies will be most put out by the appearance of them. I shall suggest to Sir Hector that this year we formalise a uniform, even if it is from Alexander's Workwear and is polyester, at least with the facial piercing removed some of them will smarten up quite well.
There has been a change in the weather on the Estate and the damp days are still with us. I long for the first shoot of bluebell to appear in the woods as that sees the start of our money-making schemes for the Summer! And I say this quietly, I think it is going to be a bumper year.
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004