January 2023
Letter 17
25/01/23 14:29
My Dearest Bunty,
Back home at last! Sir Hector tells me he wrote to you the other day telling of my misfortune and admission to the hospital. I must say it is most embarrassing for me to be under the doctor these days as I pride myself in only two pervious admissions, both to the maternity wards in Edinburgh at the Pavilion, which I understand is no longer with us. What a wonderful environment to bring forth a new life. Of course in those days the men folk were discouraged from attending, unlike today, and I must say that those days of confinement were relaxing to say the least. These days I can tell you that hospital visits are not restful, it is blood pressure this, blood test that and I am sure I am punctured all over. I hope I never have to attend the hospital again; I am a dreadful patient I know. My consultant was NHS, as there is no private wing in the cottage hospital I fear, but despite this and his obvious youth, he was gallant and told me exactly what was wrong. Can you believe I was knocked for six by gout caused by Brazil nuts? Whatever next! Not even the decency to say it was too many game pies and port, no, floored by a nut! I have to avoid them all, not even my favourite Chocolate Brazils from Cadbury's. I feel as if a special part of me has gone...
Since my discharge from hospital I have been fairly busy. The advertisement in the Labour Exchange, or Job Centre Plus or whatever it is called these days, has proved fruitful and we have had several responses. I have interviewed some of the candidates, all with excellent references and I think I shall be choosing. Gone are the days of an ample bosomed cook I am afraid, as each applicant was as thin as a rake. I shall have to ensure that Sir H and I are not put on diets in secret! The offer to the new cook went out in the post last night. She is from Frazerburgh and very competent having worked in hotels down South and in some quality homes in Grosvenor Square in London. She comes highly recommended and I am looking forward to her taking up the challenge. She is in her mid thirties and divorced, but no children and will be living in the House, just as Dear Cook did. There will be an overlap of a week before Cook leaves for the South Coast. I am sure she will hate it with all those old people wandering about the streets and in the summer I believe it can be far too busy. No place that a political party would use for a conference is my ideal retirement destination! All those wet politicians going about with clipboards and exuberant youthful members out in nightclubs. I am so glad that my two darlings have remained far from political life. I could not contemplate either of them becoming politically active as our local Unionist candidate last time was decidedly influenced by Thatcherism and not the 'One Nation' that Daddy approved of. Still, we are relatively pleased with our local Nationalist MP and MSP who do some great work for the coastal peoples, but very little for us landowners. Still it is a modern thing and I am sure that Edinburgh will turn its attention towards us soon enough and see what an economic asset to the country large estates can be. We are big employers in the area you know, if only seasonally.
January is almost over and the plans for the end of the month Burn's Supper still are not finalised. New Cook will have to deal with that but to be on the safe side I shall order some haggis from MacSweens of Edinburgh which are delicious accompanied by our home grown turnips and potatoes. The harvest this year has been poor and there is still no sign of frost to sweeten up the root vegetables, but we shall make do!
Sorry to hear that your Countess is under the weather again, I think she may be on the Last Journey from what I read between the lines in your Get Well Soon card. Best start looking for another job, dearest. You do not want to be caught on the hop as happened the last time when you were on the streets with your baggage!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
Back home at last! Sir Hector tells me he wrote to you the other day telling of my misfortune and admission to the hospital. I must say it is most embarrassing for me to be under the doctor these days as I pride myself in only two pervious admissions, both to the maternity wards in Edinburgh at the Pavilion, which I understand is no longer with us. What a wonderful environment to bring forth a new life. Of course in those days the men folk were discouraged from attending, unlike today, and I must say that those days of confinement were relaxing to say the least. These days I can tell you that hospital visits are not restful, it is blood pressure this, blood test that and I am sure I am punctured all over. I hope I never have to attend the hospital again; I am a dreadful patient I know. My consultant was NHS, as there is no private wing in the cottage hospital I fear, but despite this and his obvious youth, he was gallant and told me exactly what was wrong. Can you believe I was knocked for six by gout caused by Brazil nuts? Whatever next! Not even the decency to say it was too many game pies and port, no, floored by a nut! I have to avoid them all, not even my favourite Chocolate Brazils from Cadbury's. I feel as if a special part of me has gone...
Since my discharge from hospital I have been fairly busy. The advertisement in the Labour Exchange, or Job Centre Plus or whatever it is called these days, has proved fruitful and we have had several responses. I have interviewed some of the candidates, all with excellent references and I think I shall be choosing. Gone are the days of an ample bosomed cook I am afraid, as each applicant was as thin as a rake. I shall have to ensure that Sir H and I are not put on diets in secret! The offer to the new cook went out in the post last night. She is from Frazerburgh and very competent having worked in hotels down South and in some quality homes in Grosvenor Square in London. She comes highly recommended and I am looking forward to her taking up the challenge. She is in her mid thirties and divorced, but no children and will be living in the House, just as Dear Cook did. There will be an overlap of a week before Cook leaves for the South Coast. I am sure she will hate it with all those old people wandering about the streets and in the summer I believe it can be far too busy. No place that a political party would use for a conference is my ideal retirement destination! All those wet politicians going about with clipboards and exuberant youthful members out in nightclubs. I am so glad that my two darlings have remained far from political life. I could not contemplate either of them becoming politically active as our local Unionist candidate last time was decidedly influenced by Thatcherism and not the 'One Nation' that Daddy approved of. Still, we are relatively pleased with our local Nationalist MP and MSP who do some great work for the coastal peoples, but very little for us landowners. Still it is a modern thing and I am sure that Edinburgh will turn its attention towards us soon enough and see what an economic asset to the country large estates can be. We are big employers in the area you know, if only seasonally.
January is almost over and the plans for the end of the month Burn's Supper still are not finalised. New Cook will have to deal with that but to be on the safe side I shall order some haggis from MacSweens of Edinburgh which are delicious accompanied by our home grown turnips and potatoes. The harvest this year has been poor and there is still no sign of frost to sweeten up the root vegetables, but we shall make do!
Sorry to hear that your Countess is under the weather again, I think she may be on the Last Journey from what I read between the lines in your Get Well Soon card. Best start looking for another job, dearest. You do not want to be caught on the hop as happened the last time when you were on the streets with your baggage!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
Letter 16
20/01/23 14:29
Dear Bunty,
I am attempting to use Lady Flora's computer to type this letter to you and it is not as easy as it looks at first. In my time in the Forces there was always some adjutant to do the paperwork and I never learned to get the hang of a typewriter, but I agree it is never too late to learn! Flora has asked me to drop you a line or two as she is in the Cottage Hospital. Do not fret, she is only suffering from a dent in her pride and is not in danger. She should be back in the House in the next couple of days her doctor informs me. I am sure the rest in the hospital will do her the world of good as she has nobody to boss about there. I am sure she would have made a wonderful Matron if her situation had been different and she was not burdened with her position in the House of Lords for all those years and on the Estate nowadays. I know she misses her Days Sitting, what with the Reforms and all, but I am glad to have her at home a lot more. I am sounding over-sentimental I know.
It is most embarrassing for her you know to be out of sorts and being fussed over by local young nurses. Her pride may take a beating this time! She was admitted the morning after the American bankers left suffering from - of all things - gout in the finger. It is most debilitating I can tell you as I suffer myself from time to time, but have never had it in the finger. I think it may be from wagging it at me too often over the years, but I jest. Gout can be so difficult and thankfully it is on her left hand so she will be back to ordering this and that and writing off to the newspapers as usual on her return. I think she overdid it at the weekend with the guests. She seemed to be uncharacteristically enjoying the paying guests this time, as I do not remember her escaping to our morning room in our wing of the House at any occasion. I think she secretly loved the attention as they had found out that she was a Chief of a Clan in her Own Right and they were most intrigued. As you know I am not one for the dancing but I do enjoy watching it. This year at the Hogmanay party, I cast everything to the wind and approached my lovely wife for a St Bernard's Waltz and I have to say she is still that wonderful mover she was all those years ago at the Caledonian Ball at Hyde Park. How time has flown since then.
I am not aware as to the content of her frequent letters to you but I suppose she has mentioned that we had paying guests for Hogmanay this year. American bankers no less so I am pleased to report that our venture into the winter hospitality business was a resounding success. They all seemed to enjoy themselves and the ladies in the party from London were most pleasing to the eye, if a little on the underfed side for my own personal taste. You know how a gentleman likes a bit of girth on his companions!
I myself enjoyed the male company as I seem from time to time to be surrounded by strong females on the estate and if it were not for Ruaraidh our gillie I would be seriously outnumbered! Even in the summer, when the tearooms are opened and the tuck shop is doing business I am surrounded by ladies of every shape and description, and a man needs male company to keep him grounded. Hopefully young Alasdair on his return from his travels will see it is time to come and settle down on the Estate and give up those plans he has for living in London. I know you have been there for decades, dear Bunty and have been a great friend to my good wife over the years, but a man needs his sons near him as he ages - if nothing other than to have company of an evening around the fireside smoking some Churchwardens as I like to do. I know it is unfashionable, but fireside smoking is one of the few pleasures left to me these days.
Sincerely yours, Hector MacPherson, Bt
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
I am attempting to use Lady Flora's computer to type this letter to you and it is not as easy as it looks at first. In my time in the Forces there was always some adjutant to do the paperwork and I never learned to get the hang of a typewriter, but I agree it is never too late to learn! Flora has asked me to drop you a line or two as she is in the Cottage Hospital. Do not fret, she is only suffering from a dent in her pride and is not in danger. She should be back in the House in the next couple of days her doctor informs me. I am sure the rest in the hospital will do her the world of good as she has nobody to boss about there. I am sure she would have made a wonderful Matron if her situation had been different and she was not burdened with her position in the House of Lords for all those years and on the Estate nowadays. I know she misses her Days Sitting, what with the Reforms and all, but I am glad to have her at home a lot more. I am sounding over-sentimental I know.
It is most embarrassing for her you know to be out of sorts and being fussed over by local young nurses. Her pride may take a beating this time! She was admitted the morning after the American bankers left suffering from - of all things - gout in the finger. It is most debilitating I can tell you as I suffer myself from time to time, but have never had it in the finger. I think it may be from wagging it at me too often over the years, but I jest. Gout can be so difficult and thankfully it is on her left hand so she will be back to ordering this and that and writing off to the newspapers as usual on her return. I think she overdid it at the weekend with the guests. She seemed to be uncharacteristically enjoying the paying guests this time, as I do not remember her escaping to our morning room in our wing of the House at any occasion. I think she secretly loved the attention as they had found out that she was a Chief of a Clan in her Own Right and they were most intrigued. As you know I am not one for the dancing but I do enjoy watching it. This year at the Hogmanay party, I cast everything to the wind and approached my lovely wife for a St Bernard's Waltz and I have to say she is still that wonderful mover she was all those years ago at the Caledonian Ball at Hyde Park. How time has flown since then.
I am not aware as to the content of her frequent letters to you but I suppose she has mentioned that we had paying guests for Hogmanay this year. American bankers no less so I am pleased to report that our venture into the winter hospitality business was a resounding success. They all seemed to enjoy themselves and the ladies in the party from London were most pleasing to the eye, if a little on the underfed side for my own personal taste. You know how a gentleman likes a bit of girth on his companions!
I myself enjoyed the male company as I seem from time to time to be surrounded by strong females on the estate and if it were not for Ruaraidh our gillie I would be seriously outnumbered! Even in the summer, when the tearooms are opened and the tuck shop is doing business I am surrounded by ladies of every shape and description, and a man needs male company to keep him grounded. Hopefully young Alasdair on his return from his travels will see it is time to come and settle down on the Estate and give up those plans he has for living in London. I know you have been there for decades, dear Bunty and have been a great friend to my good wife over the years, but a man needs his sons near him as he ages - if nothing other than to have company of an evening around the fireside smoking some Churchwardens as I like to do. I know it is unfashionable, but fireside smoking is one of the few pleasures left to me these days.
Sincerely yours, Hector MacPherson, Bt
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
Letter 15
16/01/23 14:29
My Dearest Bunty,
I hope my last letter caught you in time and that 2005 is as exciting for you as it could be for me. The American Bank people have gone at last. They were fairly sad to be going I have to admit as we had put on the most wonderful show of Scottish hospitality.
Hogmanay was, as the leader called it, 'a blast' with the local band in great form and the Great Hall of the House resounded to reel after reel and Schottische. Lots of the locals had taken time to come along and I was pleased to see that hungry guests demolished Cook's triumph of a buffet. At 6am the party was still in full swing and a cooked breakfast was called for those surviving the night's festivities.
Sir H and I had retired at about two o'clock and rose again at seven to see what was happening. Many of the more distant revellers were still up and now having coffee, and I am glad to report that the Mackenzie's of Newtonmore were flowing with praise for the events of the evening. Even the Americans had joined in. I had not even thought that they would have taken part, but it seems that the team leader was something of a whiz at the Scottish Country Dancing in his youth at the American Clan Gatherings, and hence his idea to come to Scotland for Hogmanay. I must say that I did manage to dance a 'Pride of Erin Waltz' with him and he moved most graciously across the floor, which is a nice thing to see in a fairly young person these days. He was most charming on the days following their arrival. I think that the bonus cheques from their employers must have cleared in their accounts! Poor Catriona was most put out that not one of the guests was a single, eligible bachelor, but she seemed to have a great time dancing away with one of the Mackenzie sons. Pity he is a younger one and will not inherit much, but seemingly he has a good position in some WS firm in Edinburgh. Sir H was slightly the worse for wear (hence our early retirement to bed) otherwise I would liked to have stayed at the party a little longer as I was keeping my eye on the cantilevered dress that Strathmichie was wearing! At her age she should at least cover those arms of hers. They were flaying about during a reel like bags of sugar I can tell you and no amount of dazzling paste (for sure it was paste as she is as poor as a church mouse I hear these days after her contracts at Lloyd's went whistling off) will keep the eye from them. It would be cruel to call them names, but with her dowager's droop she is not looking the best, not that she could ever have been called a 'beauty' even in her youth. How she managed to get hold of Lord Strathmichie and hold on to him I shall ever be in wonder.
You can guess that once everyone had gone on their way the house would have returned to some semblance of calm, but no the American bankers were up at twelve in time for lunch and then took themselves off on a brisk walk about the Estate. I am glad it is still looking at its best and I could hear the snow crunching as their footsteps receded down the gardens to the haw-haw and beyond. I left them for a few hours napping and got up when they returned about five for some very strange parlour games indeed. They all seemed to know the rules of these tests so it was very difficult for me to follow but it seemed that they had to build some little fortress at each end in the Great Hall and then by answering questions of a very financial nature, bowl plastic balls towards their opponent's fortification. It seemed harmless fun I have to say and I shall be using their equipment (left carelessly in a large bag on one of the upper hallways) for some of our next guests. Oh yes, despite my initial trepidation, I have to agree that paying guests can be great for the Estate. Even Cook was pleased with her little bonus from the group leader, though how much I did not dare to ask!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
I hope my last letter caught you in time and that 2005 is as exciting for you as it could be for me. The American Bank people have gone at last. They were fairly sad to be going I have to admit as we had put on the most wonderful show of Scottish hospitality.
Hogmanay was, as the leader called it, 'a blast' with the local band in great form and the Great Hall of the House resounded to reel after reel and Schottische. Lots of the locals had taken time to come along and I was pleased to see that hungry guests demolished Cook's triumph of a buffet. At 6am the party was still in full swing and a cooked breakfast was called for those surviving the night's festivities.
Sir H and I had retired at about two o'clock and rose again at seven to see what was happening. Many of the more distant revellers were still up and now having coffee, and I am glad to report that the Mackenzie's of Newtonmore were flowing with praise for the events of the evening. Even the Americans had joined in. I had not even thought that they would have taken part, but it seems that the team leader was something of a whiz at the Scottish Country Dancing in his youth at the American Clan Gatherings, and hence his idea to come to Scotland for Hogmanay. I must say that I did manage to dance a 'Pride of Erin Waltz' with him and he moved most graciously across the floor, which is a nice thing to see in a fairly young person these days. He was most charming on the days following their arrival. I think that the bonus cheques from their employers must have cleared in their accounts! Poor Catriona was most put out that not one of the guests was a single, eligible bachelor, but she seemed to have a great time dancing away with one of the Mackenzie sons. Pity he is a younger one and will not inherit much, but seemingly he has a good position in some WS firm in Edinburgh. Sir H was slightly the worse for wear (hence our early retirement to bed) otherwise I would liked to have stayed at the party a little longer as I was keeping my eye on the cantilevered dress that Strathmichie was wearing! At her age she should at least cover those arms of hers. They were flaying about during a reel like bags of sugar I can tell you and no amount of dazzling paste (for sure it was paste as she is as poor as a church mouse I hear these days after her contracts at Lloyd's went whistling off) will keep the eye from them. It would be cruel to call them names, but with her dowager's droop she is not looking the best, not that she could ever have been called a 'beauty' even in her youth. How she managed to get hold of Lord Strathmichie and hold on to him I shall ever be in wonder.
You can guess that once everyone had gone on their way the house would have returned to some semblance of calm, but no the American bankers were up at twelve in time for lunch and then took themselves off on a brisk walk about the Estate. I am glad it is still looking at its best and I could hear the snow crunching as their footsteps receded down the gardens to the haw-haw and beyond. I left them for a few hours napping and got up when they returned about five for some very strange parlour games indeed. They all seemed to know the rules of these tests so it was very difficult for me to follow but it seemed that they had to build some little fortress at each end in the Great Hall and then by answering questions of a very financial nature, bowl plastic balls towards their opponent's fortification. It seemed harmless fun I have to say and I shall be using their equipment (left carelessly in a large bag on one of the upper hallways) for some of our next guests. Oh yes, despite my initial trepidation, I have to agree that paying guests can be great for the Estate. Even Cook was pleased with her little bonus from the group leader, though how much I did not dare to ask!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
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
Letter 13
11/01/23 14:29
My Dearest Bunty,
Now that the relatives, or as I have taken to calling them, the Outlaws have gone back to their place in England, the Estate has slipped into a little slumber before the onset of the New Year and associated celebrations. Cook has been putting things in aspic for a few days, taking things from the smoke house and creating wonderful breads and cakes for the guests. The first of these will arrive on 30 th in the morning so it is all hands to the deck for then. I am not sure how much they are paying, but Sir Hector has an entrepreneurial look about him that is most fetching, so I guess that it is going to make us a pretty penny for the dark months until Spring.
Catriona has seen that the guns are cleaned and there is enough clay for the home made pigeon shooting and the band have called to confirm. I am so looking forward to the dancing as you know. I have made it my forte to be first on the floor for the slower dances these days, as the Dashing White Sergeant is a little too fast for my old legs these days. Such a shame you were not able to get an invitation to the Caledonian Club Hogmanay party again this year, but I guess that not having a dance partner to accompany you there has put the Committee off once again. I did my best in pulling some strings, but the Social Secretary there was some young Miss who was not at all impressed by my titles and pulling of rank I can tell you. What has the world come to that a Scottish Peeress in her Own Right cannot guarantee a ticket for a Caledonian Ball these days? Daddy would be livid. So I guess it is a night of bad television for you bringing in the New Year of 2005 with the Countess and her glass of Mackeson. Such a difficult drink for a lady, not even the class of Guinness I fear.
I had the most strange call from Debrett's Peerage and Baronetage the other day. The young man on the other end of the telephone was questioning some of my titles in my entry. I ask you! Those titles have come to me from my beloved Daddy and deceased darling brother. Naturally he was English so had no idea that primogeniture does not always work North of the Border! Seemingly I have the right to style myself Baroness Auchterlynk as some distant Canadian relative has died in his nineties and I am the nearest relative. That would be nice to add to my string of tiles I think but the Auchterlynk is that little burn at the east end of the Estate and I cannot think I will ever use it as to be 'of' a peaty burn does not sound credible to me at all! I am so lucky to have come from good Scottish stock, long lived and ennobled! You should have taken the chance when younger to set your hat on one of my distant relatives, but you were always just that little bit flighty for them, and your own antecedents were not really up to scratch, were they? Such a pity your brother had to sell your tenanted farms to pay the Death Duty all those years ago. We were lucky that Daddy had put the Estate in a Trust, as did Sir H's father, as now we would be living just like your own Countess, in a not too well-to-do part of London, far from Cadogan Square and the centre of polite society.
I shall write again soon with the news of the guests and their 'wives' as I know you like a little light-hearted gossip from the North East. I am sure that they will be of the worst sort with all that new money and absolutely no class or breeding. I believe there are some who are even Americans! I hope they are not of the loud-mouthed variety as some of the hallways in the House do echo so and those booming know-it-all voices grate on me somewhat, but I always have the safety of my own apartments to retire to if it gets too much!
Best wishes to you for 2005. I am sure this is going to be a wonderful year for us all!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
Now that the relatives, or as I have taken to calling them, the Outlaws have gone back to their place in England, the Estate has slipped into a little slumber before the onset of the New Year and associated celebrations. Cook has been putting things in aspic for a few days, taking things from the smoke house and creating wonderful breads and cakes for the guests. The first of these will arrive on 30 th in the morning so it is all hands to the deck for then. I am not sure how much they are paying, but Sir Hector has an entrepreneurial look about him that is most fetching, so I guess that it is going to make us a pretty penny for the dark months until Spring.
Catriona has seen that the guns are cleaned and there is enough clay for the home made pigeon shooting and the band have called to confirm. I am so looking forward to the dancing as you know. I have made it my forte to be first on the floor for the slower dances these days, as the Dashing White Sergeant is a little too fast for my old legs these days. Such a shame you were not able to get an invitation to the Caledonian Club Hogmanay party again this year, but I guess that not having a dance partner to accompany you there has put the Committee off once again. I did my best in pulling some strings, but the Social Secretary there was some young Miss who was not at all impressed by my titles and pulling of rank I can tell you. What has the world come to that a Scottish Peeress in her Own Right cannot guarantee a ticket for a Caledonian Ball these days? Daddy would be livid. So I guess it is a night of bad television for you bringing in the New Year of 2005 with the Countess and her glass of Mackeson. Such a difficult drink for a lady, not even the class of Guinness I fear.
I had the most strange call from Debrett's Peerage and Baronetage the other day. The young man on the other end of the telephone was questioning some of my titles in my entry. I ask you! Those titles have come to me from my beloved Daddy and deceased darling brother. Naturally he was English so had no idea that primogeniture does not always work North of the Border! Seemingly I have the right to style myself Baroness Auchterlynk as some distant Canadian relative has died in his nineties and I am the nearest relative. That would be nice to add to my string of tiles I think but the Auchterlynk is that little burn at the east end of the Estate and I cannot think I will ever use it as to be 'of' a peaty burn does not sound credible to me at all! I am so lucky to have come from good Scottish stock, long lived and ennobled! You should have taken the chance when younger to set your hat on one of my distant relatives, but you were always just that little bit flighty for them, and your own antecedents were not really up to scratch, were they? Such a pity your brother had to sell your tenanted farms to pay the Death Duty all those years ago. We were lucky that Daddy had put the Estate in a Trust, as did Sir H's father, as now we would be living just like your own Countess, in a not too well-to-do part of London, far from Cadogan Square and the centre of polite society.
I shall write again soon with the news of the guests and their 'wives' as I know you like a little light-hearted gossip from the North East. I am sure that they will be of the worst sort with all that new money and absolutely no class or breeding. I believe there are some who are even Americans! I hope they are not of the loud-mouthed variety as some of the hallways in the House do echo so and those booming know-it-all voices grate on me somewhat, but I always have the safety of my own apartments to retire to if it gets too much!
Best wishes to you for 2005. I am sure this is going to be a wonderful year for us all!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
Letter 12
09/01/23 14:29
My Dearest Bunty,
I know you can hardly wait for the next instalment of my Yuletide woes, so I am writing this before I receive your reply to my last letter. I was I have to say most excited and elated about the events running up to Christmas Day but seeing the shame on my beloved Sir Hector's face was becoming too much to bear. His sister really is a rum sort you know and now all the Estate knows that young Fraser is a bad sort. Where he got hold of the drugs I shall never know. Perhaps it would have been best if he had been caught with them on the flight from England and could be in therapy as I write, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the purchase was made here in the village. I shall be having a word with the Vicar and the Minister to see if they are aware of drug taking going on. It has to be stamped out you know as it could lead to anarchy and disrespect. I blame nobody for this at all. I am nothing if not enlightened, but I well remember the brother of that Carmody girl at Cheltenham going a bit 'native' in North Africa just after the war with the easy access to drugs of all sorts in the French Colonies, need I say more? Even that little problem you had some years back with those diet pills from the charlatan doctor in Harley Street is nothing in comparison with this, and you did manage to maintain your figure a little longer because of it.
On Boxing Day our relatives took a brisk walk with the dogs, probably keeping out of harm's way and to clear their befuddled heads no doubt. I am disappointed in young Margo, she showed much promise when younger but after the slap she got from such poor results in her GCSEs or whatever you call the examinations in England these days, she has seen her opportunities diminish somewhat. She now says she would be happy to work in Liberty of Regent Street of all places. Can you imagine? Thankfully she does not carry the family name with her, as I would be totally ashamed to have her recognised by someone we know. That is the ultimate social fall.
I must say that Christmas was not a good one as the snow did not last and I missed some opportunities to go out with the dogs as I spent far too much time calming Cook down from the events of the previous week and buttering her up to stay a while longer. Where are we going to find someone to replace her and her glorious creations from the kitchen? I have to say I have never spent as much time in the kitchen and pantry as I have in the last few days, but it all seems to have worked. Sir H had the mad idea of improving Cook's pay and conditions, but I soon put paid to that idea as that would mean everyone on the Estate wanting a pay rise and we are not made of money you know. After all, Cook is living in the Dowager Wing of the House these days and has it free of charge at that! What more could she possibly want? I have spoken to Catriona about this and she says that Cook wants to retire and move to Bournemouth to be near to her own children, but after working for us for twenty-five years it is going to be a wrench for me to see her go.
Can you imaging me placing an advertisement in the local paper for a cook? Or worse in the Labour Exchange?
Such a bad time of year to be looking for staff, if it were in the Summer months I would have little hesitation in getting one of those needy students from the Hotel School in Glasgow to come and work here. It would look great on their resume in any case and I pride myself in being able to write glowing references if merited. It looks as if we will have to move quickly to replace Cook, though, as she asked me for access to my computer the other day to purchase a flight to Bournemouth International and I have to say I never realised there was an airport there! It looks as if I will not be able to change her mind!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
I know you can hardly wait for the next instalment of my Yuletide woes, so I am writing this before I receive your reply to my last letter. I was I have to say most excited and elated about the events running up to Christmas Day but seeing the shame on my beloved Sir Hector's face was becoming too much to bear. His sister really is a rum sort you know and now all the Estate knows that young Fraser is a bad sort. Where he got hold of the drugs I shall never know. Perhaps it would have been best if he had been caught with them on the flight from England and could be in therapy as I write, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the purchase was made here in the village. I shall be having a word with the Vicar and the Minister to see if they are aware of drug taking going on. It has to be stamped out you know as it could lead to anarchy and disrespect. I blame nobody for this at all. I am nothing if not enlightened, but I well remember the brother of that Carmody girl at Cheltenham going a bit 'native' in North Africa just after the war with the easy access to drugs of all sorts in the French Colonies, need I say more? Even that little problem you had some years back with those diet pills from the charlatan doctor in Harley Street is nothing in comparison with this, and you did manage to maintain your figure a little longer because of it.
On Boxing Day our relatives took a brisk walk with the dogs, probably keeping out of harm's way and to clear their befuddled heads no doubt. I am disappointed in young Margo, she showed much promise when younger but after the slap she got from such poor results in her GCSEs or whatever you call the examinations in England these days, she has seen her opportunities diminish somewhat. She now says she would be happy to work in Liberty of Regent Street of all places. Can you imagine? Thankfully she does not carry the family name with her, as I would be totally ashamed to have her recognised by someone we know. That is the ultimate social fall.
I must say that Christmas was not a good one as the snow did not last and I missed some opportunities to go out with the dogs as I spent far too much time calming Cook down from the events of the previous week and buttering her up to stay a while longer. Where are we going to find someone to replace her and her glorious creations from the kitchen? I have to say I have never spent as much time in the kitchen and pantry as I have in the last few days, but it all seems to have worked. Sir H had the mad idea of improving Cook's pay and conditions, but I soon put paid to that idea as that would mean everyone on the Estate wanting a pay rise and we are not made of money you know. After all, Cook is living in the Dowager Wing of the House these days and has it free of charge at that! What more could she possibly want? I have spoken to Catriona about this and she says that Cook wants to retire and move to Bournemouth to be near to her own children, but after working for us for twenty-five years it is going to be a wrench for me to see her go.
Can you imaging me placing an advertisement in the local paper for a cook? Or worse in the Labour Exchange?
Such a bad time of year to be looking for staff, if it were in the Summer months I would have little hesitation in getting one of those needy students from the Hotel School in Glasgow to come and work here. It would look great on their resume in any case and I pride myself in being able to write glowing references if merited. It looks as if we will have to move quickly to replace Cook, though, as she asked me for access to my computer the other day to purchase a flight to Bournemouth International and I have to say I never realised there was an airport there! It looks as if I will not be able to change her mind!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
Letter 11
06/01/23 14:29
My Dearest Bunty,
Where do I start with my news following Christmas? I shall start with the most important news that Cook has decided to retire in the New Year! Woe, woe and thrice woe I say, but her reasons are quite understandable after the behaviour of my niece and nephew from England towards her. Let me start at the very beginning...
Sir Hector's sister and her demon brood arrived as expected on 23 December, with nothing but complaints from her about the cold she felt in the house. I can say I did attempt to greet her with open arms but you could see some thermal clothing over the collar of her tweeds, needless to say they were not of the winter variety so beloved of the Kirk ladies up here in the North East! As if that was not enough, young Fraser and young Margo then proceeded to take one of the estate cars and head into the village - to the public house of all places! I was not amused in the slightest as our evening meal was delayed in the hope that they would return from that dreadful place in one piece and sit down to dine with us, but I was wrong. Sir H was livid when they did arrive at 11:30, quite the worse for drink I can tell you and with tales from that sort you can meet in any public house in any part of the country. Indeed young Fraser was a little too fresh with Catriona our Estate Manager who came in to tell Sir H that there was a dent in the car, which the children took into the village. He was most displeased, but in order to keep in with his dreadful sister, made light of the situation at that point, but on retiring to our bedroom he was ranting and raving like some third rate cinema production. I kept my peace you will be glad to hear, but I have marked the event in my diary as an indicator of what was to come, and goodness, come it did!
Still I took my relaxation and comfort in watching the snow come in from the north as I had hopped for and seeing the Estate garlanded in snowflakes. Catriona did a sterling job of keeping the drives and paths cleared underfoot, but you know I love to hear that crisp crunch underfoot on day old snow. It was the morning after the snowfall that Housekeeper informed me that she had found suspicious cigarette stubs in Fraser's room. On investigation it was as I had feared (but I can say I secretly relished the fact) that he is on drugs. Oh! How Sir H ranted and raved to his sister! It was a sight to see: the smirk was removed, possibly forever, from that overdone face. I kept out of the room of course but with the door of the Morning Room ajar I was able to hear every single word, some of them most foul I can tell you! The argument raged for an hour with her saying she would never come back to Scotland again, her loss I thought to myself, and that she knew I was victimising the young people and after all there was nothing for them to do up here! I ask you, did they not look out of the House windows and see the magnificence of Scotland in winter? Goodness, there are people willing to PAY for such a view at this time of year, and we should know!
Things got worse as the day progressed and Fraser and Margo were involved ultimately and the show-down came over supper, where Fraser through his plate of meats into the dining room fire in a temper saying that it was not up to the standards of MacDonald's! Cook was most upset and threatened to leave on the spot, but we have managed to calm her down and she is going to stay until the New Year guests have gone!
I have to say I loved the fact that my sister-in-law and her brood have had a come-uppance at last and I retired to bed that evening most satisfied. My own darlings would never behave like that.
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
Where do I start with my news following Christmas? I shall start with the most important news that Cook has decided to retire in the New Year! Woe, woe and thrice woe I say, but her reasons are quite understandable after the behaviour of my niece and nephew from England towards her. Let me start at the very beginning...
Sir Hector's sister and her demon brood arrived as expected on 23 December, with nothing but complaints from her about the cold she felt in the house. I can say I did attempt to greet her with open arms but you could see some thermal clothing over the collar of her tweeds, needless to say they were not of the winter variety so beloved of the Kirk ladies up here in the North East! As if that was not enough, young Fraser and young Margo then proceeded to take one of the estate cars and head into the village - to the public house of all places! I was not amused in the slightest as our evening meal was delayed in the hope that they would return from that dreadful place in one piece and sit down to dine with us, but I was wrong. Sir H was livid when they did arrive at 11:30, quite the worse for drink I can tell you and with tales from that sort you can meet in any public house in any part of the country. Indeed young Fraser was a little too fresh with Catriona our Estate Manager who came in to tell Sir H that there was a dent in the car, which the children took into the village. He was most displeased, but in order to keep in with his dreadful sister, made light of the situation at that point, but on retiring to our bedroom he was ranting and raving like some third rate cinema production. I kept my peace you will be glad to hear, but I have marked the event in my diary as an indicator of what was to come, and goodness, come it did!
Still I took my relaxation and comfort in watching the snow come in from the north as I had hopped for and seeing the Estate garlanded in snowflakes. Catriona did a sterling job of keeping the drives and paths cleared underfoot, but you know I love to hear that crisp crunch underfoot on day old snow. It was the morning after the snowfall that Housekeeper informed me that she had found suspicious cigarette stubs in Fraser's room. On investigation it was as I had feared (but I can say I secretly relished the fact) that he is on drugs. Oh! How Sir H ranted and raved to his sister! It was a sight to see: the smirk was removed, possibly forever, from that overdone face. I kept out of the room of course but with the door of the Morning Room ajar I was able to hear every single word, some of them most foul I can tell you! The argument raged for an hour with her saying she would never come back to Scotland again, her loss I thought to myself, and that she knew I was victimising the young people and after all there was nothing for them to do up here! I ask you, did they not look out of the House windows and see the magnificence of Scotland in winter? Goodness, there are people willing to PAY for such a view at this time of year, and we should know!
Things got worse as the day progressed and Fraser and Margo were involved ultimately and the show-down came over supper, where Fraser through his plate of meats into the dining room fire in a temper saying that it was not up to the standards of MacDonald's! Cook was most upset and threatened to leave on the spot, but we have managed to calm her down and she is going to stay until the New Year guests have gone!
I have to say I loved the fact that my sister-in-law and her brood have had a come-uppance at last and I retired to bed that evening most satisfied. My own darlings would never behave like that.
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
Letter 10
05/01/23 16:05
My Dearest Bunty,
I am hoping to get this letter to you before the Christmas post stops. What an inconvenience it is this year with the long holiday! I hope the Post Office rise to the occasion and get this to you with my warmest greetings at this time.
The Estate is looking wonderful and there is hope for snow on Christmas Day this year once again. I can hardly wait, as I love to see the trees festooned with branches of snow and how it sparkles in the moonlight, saving us not a pretty penny in decorations outdoors I may add! I was walking with Trevor and Roper our gundogs the other day and the ground is hard underfoot and I think that is a signal for a bitter snap ahead. I was able to see in the distance some of the herd of wild deer on the estate, but without my binoculars to confirm, I could not make out the exact number. Catriona says that the poaching seems to have come to an end for now. That suggests to me that the last lot were taking to supply some up-market restaurant, probably in London from what I hear as once again this year venison is seen as a healthy alternative to beef. I was so glad that we have no cattle on the estate farms after the outbreak of Foot and Mouth a few years ago we would have faced ruin if we had, but having diversified into more exciting produce such as the small ostrich pens in the Lower Farm, we have been saved from penury!
Sir Hector is being morose these days as I think he is not looking forward to the visit of his sister and her family and as you know I suffer them all being here at all! Such ungrateful young people she has as children; never a word of thanks for the small gifts which Sir H and I place in their stockings by the fireplace for Christmas Day. It is all Play Station this and X-Box that with them and as for the tangerine at the toe end of the stocking... you would think they never new about tradition! I must say I am looking forward to having them leave and a few days with Sir H alone before the paying guests arrive for the New Year.
I have to say that the fashion for calling Hogmanay 'New Years' has arrived here in the North East. When I first heard it on the telephone from a prospective visitor I had to ask 'New Year's what?' only to be met with a dumbfounded silence. I know the Americans call it that, but we have to remember our grammar as it is a SINGLE year that is dawning and it is NOT the possessive case! Oh how the wonderful English language is being destroyed by some of those lowbrow shows on cable television! I did manage to see the rather wonderful BBC4 show about 'Gracie Fields' and although she was definitely not of our class, dear, she did have a knack of entertaining and singing some of those comic songs so beloved of Daddy. Some were very close to the bone I can tell you and Mamma was forever telling him to keep quiet whenever in earshot of Duncan, may he rest in peace, or myself. I hope it is repeated on the terrestrial channel for you to have a look at. It brought back such happy memories of our times at school. Do you remember that mill-owner's daughter in the Upper Sixth when at Cheltenham? I heard she married very well in Canada sometime after the war, but there was always that air of 'trade' about her which meant she would never have been presented at Court for our dear departed King George. Such a gentleman. I well remember the Caledonian Ball in 1951 and having the honour and privilege to dance a Schottische with him and the strong smell of Players cigarettes about his Prince Charlie jacket - fond memories indeed. It is a wonderful thing to see our Royal Family in highland garb and dancing furiously to the fiddles and pipes and I do hope that our little 'Event' on 31 st will have some of the class we were exposed to back then, but I have my doubts, dearest!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
I am hoping to get this letter to you before the Christmas post stops. What an inconvenience it is this year with the long holiday! I hope the Post Office rise to the occasion and get this to you with my warmest greetings at this time.
The Estate is looking wonderful and there is hope for snow on Christmas Day this year once again. I can hardly wait, as I love to see the trees festooned with branches of snow and how it sparkles in the moonlight, saving us not a pretty penny in decorations outdoors I may add! I was walking with Trevor and Roper our gundogs the other day and the ground is hard underfoot and I think that is a signal for a bitter snap ahead. I was able to see in the distance some of the herd of wild deer on the estate, but without my binoculars to confirm, I could not make out the exact number. Catriona says that the poaching seems to have come to an end for now. That suggests to me that the last lot were taking to supply some up-market restaurant, probably in London from what I hear as once again this year venison is seen as a healthy alternative to beef. I was so glad that we have no cattle on the estate farms after the outbreak of Foot and Mouth a few years ago we would have faced ruin if we had, but having diversified into more exciting produce such as the small ostrich pens in the Lower Farm, we have been saved from penury!
Sir Hector is being morose these days as I think he is not looking forward to the visit of his sister and her family and as you know I suffer them all being here at all! Such ungrateful young people she has as children; never a word of thanks for the small gifts which Sir H and I place in their stockings by the fireplace for Christmas Day. It is all Play Station this and X-Box that with them and as for the tangerine at the toe end of the stocking... you would think they never new about tradition! I must say I am looking forward to having them leave and a few days with Sir H alone before the paying guests arrive for the New Year.
I have to say that the fashion for calling Hogmanay 'New Years' has arrived here in the North East. When I first heard it on the telephone from a prospective visitor I had to ask 'New Year's what?' only to be met with a dumbfounded silence. I know the Americans call it that, but we have to remember our grammar as it is a SINGLE year that is dawning and it is NOT the possessive case! Oh how the wonderful English language is being destroyed by some of those lowbrow shows on cable television! I did manage to see the rather wonderful BBC4 show about 'Gracie Fields' and although she was definitely not of our class, dear, she did have a knack of entertaining and singing some of those comic songs so beloved of Daddy. Some were very close to the bone I can tell you and Mamma was forever telling him to keep quiet whenever in earshot of Duncan, may he rest in peace, or myself. I hope it is repeated on the terrestrial channel for you to have a look at. It brought back such happy memories of our times at school. Do you remember that mill-owner's daughter in the Upper Sixth when at Cheltenham? I heard she married very well in Canada sometime after the war, but there was always that air of 'trade' about her which meant she would never have been presented at Court for our dear departed King George. Such a gentleman. I well remember the Caledonian Ball in 1951 and having the honour and privilege to dance a Schottische with him and the strong smell of Players cigarettes about his Prince Charlie jacket - fond memories indeed. It is a wonderful thing to see our Royal Family in highland garb and dancing furiously to the fiddles and pipes and I do hope that our little 'Event' on 31 st will have some of the class we were exposed to back then, but I have my doubts, dearest!
Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
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