http://www.george-maclean.com/index.htmlHot News!enen2023-03-15T14:36:00+00:00 hourly 1 2000-01-01T12:00+00:00 Fri, 25 Nov 2022 15:35:14 +0000Lady Flora Letters2023-03-15T14:36:00+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/06848890ec3cc53a7bff277703b2945a-26.html#unique-entry-id-26http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/06848890ec3cc53a7bff277703b2945a-26.html#unique-entry-id-26My Dearest Bunty,

What a carry-on seems to be developing in the Scottish Parliament in Edinburgh! The population is shrinking in Scotland and no one seems to know what to do about it. I am sure that First Minister McConnell has his eye on the ball with this, as it seems that Ireland will be bigger in population in the next twenty years or so if the outflow of people of working age from Scotland is not stopped. I put this down to a lack of love and understanding of the scenery and traditions of Scotland by those youngsters in the Central Belt. I would ensure that there is a strong sense of national pride instilled in them whilst still at school. I know that in the past Scotland had faults and in the main that women were not appreciated for their economic and social contribution, but times have changed and the young people have more opportunity now in Scotland than at any time in the past. Do you know what I would do? I would create a Scottish passport, and only those who have worked in Scotland for fifteen years would be able to get one. Naturally the Scottish Parliament would have to oppose applications for a UK passport for those who have not met this criteria. Is that too strong? Something has to be done to stop the 'brain-drain' to the South East of England and beyond, and drastic measures are required now to stop this getting worse. Not only that, but the numbers of children being born is decreasing as well, but there is one good thing on the horizon and that is that numbers of marriages are increasing after those dreadful years when it was common to be 'living together'. How I hated those days as it smacked just a little of 'taste and try before you buy'. I know we are of a generation where divorce rates rocketed once the Sunday papers stopped being interested in the latest divorce 'scandal' and we have seen marriage slip in popularity, but it is such a wonderful event for a girl to experience. Possibly the only day in her drab life where she is truly a 'princess' and looked at in awe. I know that is how I felt on my wedding day to Sir Hector, and remember it with much fondness and humour! What parties there were on the Estate for our nuptials! I am sure the locals still talk about it.

We had an application to the Registrar General of Scotland approved last year as you know and now can host weddings on the Estate in the Great Hall, but so far these have been few and far between. I have had an approach from a rather shady character in London who suggested that we combine our licence and his bridal carriage business, which he is hoping to expand to the North East. My dear, what a fright I got when I looked into his operation on the internet! One of his coaches is straight out of Walt Disney's 'Cinderella' and is a confection of the most questionable taste. On seeing it, Sir H was heard to mutter 'It looks good if you are a Southern Sharon' and I have to agree, although I secretly laughed at the idea of the pumpkin coach negotiating the cattle grids that are all over the local area! Can you imagine anything in poorer taste? I would fine those people who see that as a mark of class for a wedding day! What is wrong with a Bentley?

What a shame it is that you never had the opportunity to marry. You would have been an excellent wife, what with your cooking skills and home economics, but I guess that Mr Right walked Right On Bye in your case. Still I hope you are able to rejoice and celebrate in my successful marriage, which is coming up to forty years soon. Can you believe it? Where has the time gone? Sir H is now in his seventies, still looking sprightly but I wonder what will happen to him as age and infirmity grow? There are some good homes run by the Kirk I know, and some very expensive ones in the private sector, but I cannot imagine putting him in such a place, however good and cheerful. I think I will have to keep looking after him in his dotage - may that be a long time off!

Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-03-11T14:33:07+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/ac7a880c51593c9cd032e10c7153ecf8-24.html#unique-entry-id-24http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/ac7a880c51593c9cd032e10c7153ecf8-24.html#unique-entry-id-24My Dearest Bunty,

As you know it has been the Estate policy to open the grounds and House to the public on Easter Monday, but this year Easter falls so early that much of the necessary work will not be completed in time. I had to sadly agree with Catriona the Estate Manager that it was more important to have the grounds up to scratch and looking wonderful, and the House spring cleaned within an inch of its life, rather than to have coach loads of disappointed visitors remarking on the 'stoor and oose' - as she called it - on the picture frames and under the furniture. I must say I was most shocked at her as I think our winter charladies do a fine job but even I have seen some of the so-called 'oose' drifting across the Main Hall in the winter sunshine and I have had to sadly agree. Spring-cleaning is now at the top of the list of jobs to be done before the end of Easter. As if I had not enough to do in that period, what with my commitment to the Church at that time. I shall get the ladies who 'do' to bring in more cleaners in order to make the place spick and span.

Do you remember me writing about the new vicar in my local church? Well he has turned out to be just what we needed to revive the congregation. I still have my doubts about his short hair and fast motorcycle, but even I have to move with the times. He has struck up a good friendship with the local Kirk minister which should see great dividends as time progresses, not least at the Sales of Work and Jumble, although I NEVER go to the latter as it seems to be tables groaning with old and threadbare clothing not fit to be sent to the poor in Darkest Africa. However Sales of Work are great events, I do like the cake tables and allow Sir Hector to have a flutter or two on the Tombolla, where he only ever seems to win bottles of HP Sauce for all the tickets he buys. I will not have that in the House so he keeps it in one of the sheds, where he and Ruaraidh the gamekeeper I am sure have sneaky bacon sandwiches out of the range of my rather good nose! Men! What strange creatures they are, wanting to spoil lovely Ayrshire bacon with that mix of molasses and dates! The very idea! He says the same about my morning toast with Marmite, but it does remind me of breakfasts at Cheltenham Ladies College where that seemed to be the only spread available to us!

We had some samples of the shirt embroidery arrive the other day and I must say it is wonderful. I understand that a computerised Singer machine takes all the hard work out of this task and that it is only a few moments before the Crest is seen above the heart of the shirtfront. What a marvel technology is these days! I remember having some embroidery placed on my blouse for taking my Seat in the House of Lords and it took weeks for Granny Grogan, the local seamstress from the village to get it done, and even then it was nothing much to look at. Such a pity my ermines covered up the tweed suit I was forced to wear that day, as I would have made a stirring sight I can tell you.

Oh my lovely House! I have been following all the debates and to-ing and fro-ing going on in the last months as the Peers flex muscle over plans started in 'the other place' as we were told to call the House of Commons! I can see that the Lords has changed a lot since the Reforms and they seem no longer content just to meet old friends and dine in the Palace, and are expected to put in the hours as if they were in Trade! What a change, and I am sure, not for the better. How I miss an early afternoon tea waiting for the Law Lords to finish their reporting. I never was able to enter whilst they were debating, but I am sure it must have been thrilling to see the Great Brains at work. Most of them left the Chamber before we took up our deliberations. I myself stuck to things I know about: farming, landowning and occasionally fishing.

Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2005
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-03-02T14:33:06+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/54dad60d1fe0b2aa25c15d4cfe4e5885-23.html#unique-entry-id-23http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/54dad60d1fe0b2aa25c15d4cfe4e5885-23.html#unique-entry-id-23My Dearest Bunty,

What a busy time we have had on the Estate in the last days. As soon as the advertisement for jobs went up in some local Employment Exchanges, they were on the phone to us with lists of names, some of which had worked here before but most of them never. It has been a challenge for us to sift through the applicants I can tell you and Catriona the sturdy estate manager and New Cook have been well satisfied with the potential employees for their respective areas. Cook has taken on some of the school canteen ladies for July and August and thinks she will be able to survive the late summer on her own. I have to agree as most of our visitors come in that period, avoiding the area when the midges get too much. What dreadful creatures they are! I have of course been left with the bulk of the applicants: those to work as guides, serving food and arranging the parking. I am sure I have not been lucky in getting the cream of the local unemployed I can tell you.

This was confirmed with the first group of applicants. We decided it was better to interview them in a group, give them some tests in basic English, arithmetic and then to chat in a group to see who were the brightest and to weed out potential grumblers. I well remember years ago employing a young man to take the car parking fees. He was a most miserable sort and not the face I wanted to greet my paying visitors I can tell you! I believe he gave up his position mid way through the season to go for a job as an actor of all things. I hope he gets comic roles, just to see a smile cross his face from time to time!

Our first group of applicants was a fairly mixed bunch. Some of them have had older siblings who have worked on the Estate before and were quite aware of what is in store for them. Some of the girls were most polite, but experience tells me that they can be the most trouble as they spend most of the day arranging dates with the most unsuitable element form the local village and come in to work looking the worst for wear - if they arrive at all! I was pleasantly surprised at how respectable the young men looked at the interview - not a facial piercing to be seen. That is what I had hoped for, although some of their hair could do with a good beaten egg wash or even a proper cut. I remember Daddy taking dear departed Alexander for his end of summer haircut at the Court Barbers in Jermyn Street in London before he returned to Eton. That was always a special treat for Alexander as the afternoon was often rounded off with tea in the Peers' Dining Rooms at my Beloved House of Lords. Who could have imagined that Alexander would only have his seat for the shortest of times after Daddy passed?

Well the arithmetic and English tests were fairly simple, and all passed through that I can say. It is good to see that some remnant of the Good Scottish Education still exists here in the North East, as I read in the occasional Scotsman (when no Telegraph is available) that the Central Belt suffers from a great decline in the basic education that young people need to equip them for the workplace. What a shame! That would never have happened if Scotland produced an army of school madams in the mould of the Nanny I had as a child - or indeed of the strict ladies we had during our time at Cheltenham!

The boys are quite happy to hear that there is going to be a uniform. I expect they need to keep their hooded sweatshirts and saggy denims for impressing the young girls in the village late into the evenings. What a young lady these days sees in an untailored, callow youth I shall never know. It seems slightly disrespectful in my view and downright rude for a man of any age to display the tops of his underwear. I was quite alarmed when I saw that coming onto fashion on one of the cable channels. A lady should have no idea about the neither garments of the male until after the wedding night. Oh I sound so pompous writing that, but you get my drift.

Yours as always, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-02-28T14:33:04+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/5d1f19bb04c5e9343e6ec84e945f8a44-22.html#unique-entry-id-22http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/5d1f19bb04c5e9343e6ec84e945f8a44-22.html#unique-entry-id-22My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-02-21T14:33:03+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/3a2369d5df8f8651ea3387e4fba7c73b-21.html#unique-entry-id-21http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/3a2369d5df8f8651ea3387e4fba7c73b-21.html#unique-entry-id-21My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-02-18T14:29:26+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/32cb76e93492d548b4716d6060759cb4-13.html#unique-entry-id-13http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/32cb76e93492d548b4716d6060759cb4-13.html#unique-entry-id-13My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-02-14T14:29:25+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/ad78d8bbfedcb076f69a6af9c3575fe1-12.html#unique-entry-id-12http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/ad78d8bbfedcb076f69a6af9c3575fe1-12.html#unique-entry-id-12My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-02-11T14:29:24+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/9ad77f54239e49ccbdda9dd1b4fdae7f-11.html#unique-entry-id-11http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/9ad77f54239e49ccbdda9dd1b4fdae7f-11.html#unique-entry-id-11My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-02-04T14:33:08+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/2df5f0ca91ae92c848d32dad1fcd4e13-25.html#unique-entry-id-25http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/2df5f0ca91ae92c848d32dad1fcd4e13-25.html#unique-entry-id-25My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-02-01T14:29:27+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/c3e8a31a15cccef5bc43cc0f4bacbfa5-14.html#unique-entry-id-14http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/c3e8a31a15cccef5bc43cc0f4bacbfa5-14.html#unique-entry-id-14My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-01-25T14:29:29+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/661532d13d47abb330151bf7b37eadff-15.html#unique-entry-id-15http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/661532d13d47abb330151bf7b37eadff-15.html#unique-entry-id-15My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-01-20T14:29:30+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/e95f2c5ca912fcb56f01e19b37bfa437-16.html#unique-entry-id-16http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/e95f2c5ca912fcb56f01e19b37bfa437-16.html#unique-entry-id-16Dear 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-01-16T14:29:31+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/1732a82915df72e220d3e287840cef1d-17.html#unique-entry-id-17http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/1732a82915df72e220d3e287840cef1d-17.html#unique-entry-id-17My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-01-13T14:29:31+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/ae2fd9f8c06586d729091421e81eb757-18.html#unique-entry-id-18http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/ae2fd9f8c06586d729091421e81eb757-18.html#unique-entry-id-18My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-01-11T14:29:32+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/fc08571ce55e867394f6f1032df0d984-19.html#unique-entry-id-19http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/fc08571ce55e867394f6f1032df0d984-19.html#unique-entry-id-19My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-01-09T14:29:33+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/9dc3050c35fde38a0faca84386a0ba09-20.html#unique-entry-id-20http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/9dc3050c35fde38a0faca84386a0ba09-20.html#unique-entry-id-20My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-01-06T14:29:22+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/3ae22850acf10d4555aaa24b5095c5c3-10.html#unique-entry-id-10http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/3ae22850acf10d4555aaa24b5095c5c3-10.html#unique-entry-id-10My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-01-05T16:05:05+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/3e54393d6f47cb69de6140094215661f-7.html#unique-entry-id-7http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/3e54393d6f47cb69de6140094215661f-7.html#unique-entry-id-7My 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2023-01-02T16:05:06+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/569471b3d4dba133c4912b81258e2b37-8.html#unique-entry-id-8http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/569471b3d4dba133c4912b81258e2b37-8.html#unique-entry-id-8Dear 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
]]>Lady Flora Letters2022-12-30T16:04:45+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/e34793ed93bc5f55d823412ba2602128-6.html#unique-entry-id-6http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/e34793ed93bc5f55d823412ba2602128-6.html#unique-entry-id-6My dearest Bunty,

What a time of it here on the Estate since my last letter. Poachers have been out and about this season and we are a couple of stags short from the wild herd, but at least the does are fine and gadding about. Indeed I spotted one fairly close to the House the other day. They get less skittish at this time of the year when food is short and I am sure Cook leaves something outside for them to feast on, but I do worry that the loss of a couple of stags will to little for the fawning next year. Catriona, the Estate Manger, has been out with her gun looking for traces of the poachers, but they are clever in covering up their tracks and there is not a sign of them anywhere. I must say that a couple of salmon taken now and again is not going to harm the Estate that much, but when it comes to deer, I am very angry.

The Nativity Play at the local school was very enjoyable and once again Sir Hector and I were invited to give the prizes to the little children for spelling and counting. They are so in awe of us from the Big House that it is quite touching really. Sir H managed to steer clear of the headmistress this year and as sherry was in short supply for the adults in the audience, it was a fairly sober event. I was seated next to Dr Williams, the Episcopal vicar who informed me that he is being translated again, this time to Cornwall! The poor man never gets much time to settle down to his new parishes and has no idea who will be taking his place. I hope they let him stay a little beyond New Year; otherwise he will miss the lovely mountains covered with snow that usually greets us on New Years Day. I had hoped that Dr Williams would still be here when you next visit but as that is not going to be for some months, I think it will be the new vicar when you get the chance to come back to the Estate.

It gladdened my heart to read of your wise decision to drop association with that man from the Royal Albert Hall concert. Mark my words, you will be reading about him soon enough in the scandal sheets - he was just not for you dear. What a shame that there are still rogues about the place. I thought that ladies of a certain position no longer were fair game to their advances. You have to remember, dearest, that with your limited income and more limited looks that an attentive suitor will always be suspect. I am sure you know your limitations, but be more careful in the company you keep when on your evenings off. As for your plan to visit a pantomime show with the Countess, well need I say more than I think this is an unwise decision as the modern ones are nothing more than smut shows, and you can get quite enough of that on satellite. Do you know I had to turn over the television the other evening, as it was most unsuitable viewing for Sir H at his stage of life. Too much excitement is bad for the blood I think. I mentioned to you before that the meeting regarding British Telecom and broadband was taking place in the Kirk hall recently. We did not attend of course but Cook tells me that the village has had an agreement in principle with the phone company to upgrade the exchange to digital. I worry about the effect this will have on our community. As you are well aware we have had satellite for many years now, but it is hidden within one of the ramparts of the House and is not visible from anywhere, so I have always felt it correct and indeed my duty to oppose villagers getting a dish and having it on display. It spoils the look of the community don't you think? Just like a council tower block in Glasgow I always feel.

I hope you have had the doctor give the Countess her influenza inoculation in time this year. It is such a dreadfully debilitating and dangerous disease for the elderly, and let us face it she is not getting any younger.

Your ever friend, Flora

This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
]]>Lady Flora Letters2022-12-20T16:03:57+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/600bc5681056389e3bfd7ca7f92faa18-5.html#unique-entry-id-5http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/600bc5681056389e3bfd7ca7f92faa18-5.html#unique-entry-id-5My dearest Bunty,

Such news I have for you my dearest friend! But you shall have to wait a bit for that as I feel I MUST respond to your last letter first of all, you have made me most distressed.

It sounds to me as if there is far too much excitement going on with you these days; lunch in the Peers Dining Room is usually my treat for you when in town, but as long as you had a nice time, dear. I know you are usually tied to the house with the Baroness these days. I am glad however that she is able to get up and about now after her bad attack of gout. Such a disease it is! I remember when Sir Hector had his last attack after that 1951 claret - I did warn him and it took an age to go down. I am sure he has not learned his lesson but Cook is now very careful about nuts and rich things in her cooking these days. You have to ensure that the food you make for the Baroness is plain and simple from now on, goodness you may even be looking at a short trip to the South Coast before long if she is recuperating so fast!

I have personally preferred Hastings, but I believe that is not what it was in our day. Brighton has such an air of seediness about it for ladies of our persuasion and I have never enjoyed the whirly-gigs on the Pier there. I should prefer to be sitting with a good book in a lovely hotel being spoiled with afternoon tea of the highest quality rather than spinning around on some contraption.

Back to you again. This letter is all about you I can tell. I am concerned that the gentleman you met at the Albert Hall is not a decent sort. A man of his age and deportment sounds like a scoundrel, and it is a good thing that your Post Office book has next to nothing in it these days. That lack of funds will test his mettle I think. The South is filled with easy-going chaps out to take a lady for all she has. I read the Telegraph you know and am 'au courante' with what is going on in the courts these days. Be careful my dear.

We had the most wonderful news from the Colonies the other day. Alexander has managed to meet up with Little Flora in Bundaberg. Where do these strange names come from I ask myself? They are planning Christmas in New Zealand and then hope to meet up later in the Autumn in the South Seas before coming home. I do get so confused with the opposite seasons in the Colonies. Sir H takes it all in his stride, I guess it was all those postings overseas after the War. Little Flora has been working in a bar of all things! Can you believe it? A Deerestalker serving! How Daddy spins in his mausoleum to hear of this. It is fun she says, but I am not so sure it is proper for a Lady, even a young one such as her, to be serving the hoi polloi in some backpacker hotel miles from the ballet and opera. Still, you have to loosen the traces on a horse to let it roam free, and more so with one's children. Such a prize they are as one advances in years and I feel sorry for you being so childless with little humour or family joy before you in the years to come.

Still we were gladdened to hear that the children will be coming back to Scotland in the Springtime. Alexander was not forthcoming about the young lady I mentioned to you in a previous letter. 'Just good friends' was all he would say on the matter, but I am sure I heard a longing in his voice. Oh to have a child married does age one so! I am not looking forward to becoming a grandmother at my age, I shall no longer be able to avoid the question of my advancing years when there is a really young Deerestalker running about and calling out for Granny (not Nanna, as that reminds me of the dog in 'Peter Pan') so questions about age cannot be avoided.

I must go now as I hear Sir H raising his voice in the hallway. Heed my advice about your gentleman 'friend'.

Your ever friend, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
]]>Lady Flora Letters2022-12-15T16:03:02+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/c06984a35cca449fac2f3144c3012279-4.html#unique-entry-id-4http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/c06984a35cca449fac2f3144c3012279-4.html#unique-entry-id-4My dearest Bunty,

Sir Hector has finally taken the plunge and placed an advertisement in the back of 'Horse and Pony' and 'The Tatler' but thought 'Country Life' a bit over-expensive per square inch so we shall have to lower our standards a bit if we do get some bookings for the New Year here on the Estate. Catriona, our sturdy Estate Manager is a little to over excited about all the potential guests. You know I think she is on the lookout for another husband. Her first and, to my knowledge, only husband treated her so badly I believe, leaving her and her son all alone in the world as he ran off with someone from the Theatre, a comic actress of little talent from what I can make out. Still Catriona keeps a brave face on it all and I must say that since coming to the Estate has turned the old place around financially. She is an asset to the House and I shall have to keep her busy and away from any single gentleman guest she sets her hat upon. I would be lost without her.

Before New Year we are having a small family Christmas celebration. I have managed to get Sir H to cut the number of days that his sister and her dreadful children hope to spend here. I cannot abide the way she sometimes addresses me, as if I have stolen the Estate from under her! And as for the children, well, birching is needed there! Last year Cook was in tears with their demands and I was amazed she did not throw the turkey stuffing down their nasty throats. I have managed to get them limited to 23 rd December to 27 th , enough time for me to prepare myself for the New Year festivities. It is a pity you are not coming up this year, but it is probably just as well as I have been reading in the Telegraph that the Christmas bookings on the trains cannot be made as yet as nobody knows when the track mending will take place! How I miss our little branch line and how convenient it was for Daddy to come and go from Westminster when he had the Deerestalker seat. I know that times change, but I never remember the branch line tracks being repaired in all the years I travelled from Cheltenham back for the hols. All I remember is that there were lots of changes of station on the way here and I was so glad to be met at the station by a buggy and hardy retainer to load my trunk onto the back and head through the town.

Do you remember some of the other girls from school? Some did not amount to much it can be said, and some married so far beneath them that their aghast parents must have questioned all that schooling and finishing. I am glad that I married well.

Still, before Sir H' sister and family arrive from Sevenoaks in Kent, I have the estate party to organise. This is just a little 'thank-you' from Sir H and I to the workers on the Estate and the tenant farmers. We have had a successful year all in all and I would like to push the boat out a bit this year and have Father Christmas visit to distribute gifts to the young ones, something small they can treasure forever. Sir H has not been encouraging in this plan and has said that he will be "Father Christmas over his dead body'. Sometimes I believe that he is a real Scrooge, so I shall keep him away from the malts this year as last time we had an estate party he had to be carried up to bed by Ruaraidh our gillie and it was most embarrassing. Thankfully nobody of real importance saw that happen. I would not have been able to show my face in town for some time until that scandal had broken down. You know how small towns chatter, especially about those in "the big house'. I cannot ask Ruaraidh to be Father Christmas as he has his own young family to prepare for this year, and I am sure that gossip of a wife of his will not be able to keep a secret if I did ask him. It spoils the look of surprise on those young faces when they can guess who it is under that lovely red and white suit.

Your ever friend, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
]]>Lady Flora Letters2022-12-10T16:02:05+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/9f81b93c94ae5f897a413f732d4f8c25-3.html#unique-entry-id-3http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/9f81b93c94ae5f897a413f732d4f8c25-3.html#unique-entry-id-3My dearest Bunty,

What a lovely time I had in London over the last few days. I am writing this on the aeroplane travelling to Inverness on my return. I am glad I have a stiff whisky and soda to steady my hand, as this flight from Gatwick is a little choppy today. I am overburdened with shopping as you can imagine. I am sorry you were late for our lunch appointment, a telephone call could have made me stay in lovely Fortnum's a little longer to wait but you know how I detest tardiness and so you missed out on some exquisite Lobster Bisque and cucumber sandwiches. They do spoil one so! Whilst in Fortnum's buying tea, I saw Countess d'A. across in the chocolate counter and I had to say I had to duck down under the Orange Pekoe stand to avoid her. She is the size of Gigha my dear! What a beauty she was in her youth! Do you remember her at the Old King's funeral? A bit overdone with the Helena Rubenstein then, and from my vantage point nothing at all has changed. A real lady would tone down the colour as maturity advances one, but she obviously never had the finishing we did. Pity but at least we can all now know where her money is spent - camouflage and chocolate!

As you know I pride myself in being able to talk to all sorts, so occasionally I drop in on BBC1 'Top of the Pops' just to see what the young ones are listening too these days. I caught an edition in my hotel room last week and was pleasant surprise to hear lyrics for a change that someone of my age could understand. I caught that American Girl band singing well. Beautiful cardigans they had on and totally spoiled by some slutty dancing. There was no need for that in my opinion. I shall keep that to myself as a comment like that does not go down well with the younger generation. I am glad we grew up under the control of the RSCDS and learned how a lady should move on the dance floor. I know times are changing, but we were always taught that a lady does not move her nether regions unless she is crawling through the heather behind the gillie, and I shall never change. Still I now have some fuel to use when I see Catriona, our robust Estate Manager, and her son next as I can show off my knowledge of current youth music!

I do hope someone is going to meet me at Inverness airport, as a taxicab from there to the estate is such an unwanted expense. I know Sir H is feeling flush with money at the moment but every little economy should be made I firmly believe. In any case I think my parcels and delicates will fit better in the back of the Bentley, and I do love to traverse our wonderful countryside in the back of that car with the Deerestalker tartan rug across my knees. You know how I suffer from a draft about my stockings. Talking of which, I had to visit Rigby & Peller for some undergarments and was pleasantly surprised to see that they still do the support garments I love. Even though I was close to Harrods's I heard Sir H's warning in my ear about not going in but I could not resist. You know how I love to see the fish sculpture in the Food Hall. The shop itself has taken on a slightly more common attitude but I am pleased to report that some standards are maintained. You cannot but be taken aback at all the notices of what is acceptable clothing to wear in the shop as you have the door opened for you by tail coated young men. They did look smart but I did not tip, as I am sure one of them was chewing gum at the time. They never even doffed their tall hats to me - a Peeress of the Realm no less. You would not see that happening here in Banffshire I can tell you as if there was a single occasion of ill-manners, Sir H would be out of the car and giving the miscreant in question a sharp rap on the back with his walking stick. Manners cost nothing after all.

Your ever friend, Flora

[Editorial Note: RSCDS - Royal Scottish Country Dancing Society]
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
]]>Lady Flora Letters2022-12-06T12:53:11+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/20c0720de4c2cce529b40b1f0337a8ad-9.html#unique-entry-id-9http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/20c0720de4c2cce529b40b1f0337a8ad-9.html#unique-entry-id-9My dearest Bunty,

Wonderful news! The Ball was a great success and as a thank you for all my hard work, Sir Hector has presented me with an aeroplane ticket to London. I shall be arriving at Gatwick on Monday next to spend some time shopping for Christmas. I can spare you a couple of hours and if you can make it then let us have lunch at Fortnum's on Piccadilly. I have not been there for such a long time and I hope it has not changed much. You know that so much has changed in London over the years, and not too much for the better in my view. I am staying near my Beloved Lords, but I shall NOT be crossing that particular threshold this trip, even though I am allowed into the Peer's Dining Room, if not to the Chamber itself. Honestly, does this current government not realise what council it has lost by dismissing the services of us Hereditaries? Yes I agree some of us could not make it too often and that much of the business was far above my head, but I did love going in to make my voice and vote count on those issues that directly affect me: fishing, tourism and such. There was always a little group of us who met up at Division Time talking about how our estates were faring. I must say, that little group of Peeresses in Their Own Right was a dwindling happy band, but we knew what was what and what was not.

I shall not be heading to Harrods's this year for tea gifts and Christmas Puddings. Sir H has put his foot down on that little expense and insists that if Tesco Luxury Christmas Pudding is good enough for our Dear Queen then it is good enough for our staff. How I miss the old sixpence in the pudding.... The coins now are too big and rough and I am sure that would do damage to the denture if bitten inadvertently. There is something about Christmas that I love, and this year I hope there is snow for our trip to Midnight Carols, as I would like Dr Williams, our local Vicar to hear me with my fine voice singing 'Hark! The Herald Angels Sing'. Sir H will not be joining me this year at the carol service after his fall last year on the porch step. Episcopal churches can be death traps to the unwary, so you watch out when you go to the Anglican service yourself - I shall not be able to visit you in a hospital if you break your ankle as Sir H did last year!

I shall be leaving the Estate for only three days, as I must be back in time for the local School Nativity Play. How pleasant it is even in these politically correct times to see the little ones re-enacting the Christmas Story, it brings a tear to my eye when I see them and even Mr and Mrs Sian, our lovely Sikh postmaster and mistress, have their little one in the show this year, now that is Ecumenical for you. I noticed that Mr Morrison the postman is getting on a bit. I shall drop a word into Mrs Sian's ear when I am next in the PO telling her that I think he is getting past it. The new van he drives has speeded up his round somewhat I believe and he can deliver parcels at last, but I do miss a young man on a bicycle delivering my post. It is most pleasant to hear a cheery whistle in the morning when I am taking my Lime marmalade on cook's homemade bread.

Some modernisation schemes are a step too far I believe. There is to be a meeting in the Kirk hall next week to discuss application to British Telecom for broadband in the village, although why some of them need broadband access to the internet I shall never know. I can just imagine what they all are searching for in their spare time. If I had my way the single men of the village would still be out tilling the local fields and taking cold baths, it never harmed Sir H he tells me, and frankly I have to agree.

Let me know if you can make it for lunch next week. I hope this is not too much short notice.

Your ever friend, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
]]>Lady Flora Letters2022-12-02T15:40:35+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/2a7437eaebd1390c21fc56c13722d3db-2.html#unique-entry-id-2http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/2a7437eaebd1390c21fc56c13722d3db-2.html#unique-entry-id-2My dearest Bunty,
I hardly pause to catch my breath at this time of year as it seems to be party, party, party and at our age, dear, the dance slippers are worn out far too soon of an evening. Naturally I am still able to have my dance card marked by many a dashing young man but the 'Strip The Willow' is beyond me these days. How I grudge the passage of time! It seems like only yesterday that Sir Hector and I were taking our first stumbling steps in marriage and performing the duties of the local laird on the Estate. A lot of water has passed under both our bridges, yours in particular seem never to have had much traffic on it which has often made me sad to think that you may eek out your dotage in some Retired Gentlewoman Home on a meagre pension. Such a pity that some of those demanding old dears you have worked for over the years have not seen it in their

Charity to leave you a little something to tide you over in the Twilight Years. I thank my lucky stars that Sir H is still in fine fettle and keeps me up to standards.

Cook has been getting things ready for our St Andrew's Ball. It is our turn to host this year, what with the bankrupting of the neighbouring estate. I shall not dwell on that dear as it came as such a shock to us to find out that Col. Barker had a mistress down in Perth and she was demanding. I leave it to you to imaging what she was demanding. I am only glad that Col and Mrs Barker had no young children as divorce and selling up is such a strain on the young. I am so glad that Sir H and I have never really had a cross word, never mind spoken only through the legal profession. That reminds me, there are a couple of Sheriffs coming up from the Lowlands to join us this year for New Year. I do hope the conversation avoids legal issues as they can be so dull and New Year is a time for review and looking forward I always believe and the legals can be overly pessimistic - except when it comes to charging fees! I shall ensure that Catriona the Estate Manger does not undercharge them, as it is only fair that us Little People get our own back on them for a change.

Anyway we have booked some local musicians, young people with some fiddles, drums and accordion to play us through the night at the Ball and I am sure being of musical persuasion they will be better behaved than the McCall Midnight Ceilidh Band that the McKenzies booked at the last minute last year. They were far too loud and brash and fast - even I was taken aback. Not only that, but some of the tunes were most inappropriate where the heirs to Ben Vrackie Estate are in the room... How dear deceased Sutherland would have hated hearing THAT tune, you know the one I mean and I will not demean this lovely notepaper by writing it down. The clearances are long in the past and people should move on - the population is now just about right here in Banff as I often heard Grandfather talking about having to hand out food to those Unfortunates on the Parish over 100 years ago...

Back to happier things, I have a strange feeling that things are going well for Alexander on his world tour. I am so proud of my youngest travelling to Australia for a year before coming home to learn the workings of the Estate. He has met a lovely girl from Geelong, which I often mistake as 'Giddy-up'. He has not confirmed it as such in his weekly telephone call but I think she could be 'the one'. I am so excited and have to stop myself dreaming of an Estate Wedding sometime soon. It would be lovely in the Spring I tell myself.

I caught a glimpse of our Dear Queen opening the new session of Parliament the other day. She is looking wonderful - I wonder what she uses? I cannot imagine her having to consider what winter creams to use as these days we hardly ever see her on a horse. She never seems to be intending to let go, does she?
Your ever friend, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
]]>Lady Flora Letters2022-11-27T15:39:03+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/12ed31c6f4820ee7ba2c1f46b9c5523a-1.html#unique-entry-id-1http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/12ed31c6f4820ee7ba2c1f46b9c5523a-1.html#unique-entry-id-1My dearest Bunty,
Will my trials and tribulations never end? Sir Hector was most pleased with the proceeds of the shooting party we had last week and sees this as the Next Big Thing. He has suggested that we open the house for paying guests at New Year of all things. Just when I was looking forward to bringing in 2005 with a select group of locals. Still, the roof could be doing with a few tiles here and there, so I shall have to relent. I shall make him suffer a little before giving my assent. Men! Not that you would know much about them, dear, I know you never get much opportunity to meet a nice man and we are all getting on and let us face it, any looks you did have in your youth have long gone. The "rose that withered" is apt, you will agree. I have today switched to my "winter strength" moisturiser, as there can be a cold blast down the Cairngorms that can dry a lady's skin so when on the way to Church. Why does it always seem to be windy on church visits? I hate turning up to hear lovely Dr Williams preaching at the Episcopal Church and having to sit there with a bright red face and nose. It is not fetching in the least. I am sure he likes to see me at my best. He has never married, but has maintained himself well since his translation from Ely Cathedral two years ago. I am sure that moving from England has not been too much of a shock. Sometimes I wish I had been a clergy wife, dispensing good advice to the Savage in those parts of the World that once were Empire. I sigh that our Dear Queen is no longer entitled to use "Empress of India" like her mother before her. We knew where we stood during the Empire days, and the World looked back in awe.

I do not see much point in bringing you up in conversation with Dr Williams as I had promised you, as he seems elusive about discussing ladies and I put that down to having a Harrow education. My boys have done better I think with their Fettes College training. I did tell you years ago that it was necessary to maintain a good complexion in order to get and keep a man, but you never seem to listen to me. After all I have had lots of experience with the male species as you know and have ever been disappointed that you have paid scant regard to the advice of a critical friend.

Back to New Year plans, and that means I shall not be able to invite you up this year, as all the rooms will be used. I am sure you will be able to amuse yourself in London instead and that there will be some event you could attend at low cost. Sir Hector wants to advertise in the Aberdeen Press and Journal, but really, dear, I could not abide Aberdeen trades people cavorting in my home at that special time of year. I have suggested that Catriona, the Estate Manager drop subtle hints to Sir Hector that "Hunting and Fly-fishing Monthly" and indeed that source of all that is right in Society, "The Tattler" and if all else fails, "The Lady" are better suggestions. I am going to renew your subscription again this year as a Christmas gift. So practical these gifts you know, it means I can get on with planning and thinking of others now that yours is easy and out of the way.

I read in the Telegraph the other day that London hopes to host the 2012 Olympic Games. What a shock! With all that dirt and crime I would not want to be an athlete from Botswana arriving in England for the first time and coming across some of those nefarious characters that the streets seem to team with these days. Still, Daddy did have a lovely time at the 1920 Games and I still sport his rifle from that event when out on the grouse moor. It is good to have things to remind us of the past and better times. How I miss Daddy! He would be shocked at how the estate is now with all that new money tramping across the well tended lawns.

Your ever friend, Flora
This story first appeared on www.panetwork.co.uk in 2004
]]>Lady Flora Letters2022-11-25T15:37:15+00:00http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/91c65cf06185914ddd43ed314ae1cd2e-0.html#unique-entry-id-0http://www.george-maclean.com/styled-5/blog-2/files/91c65cf06185914ddd43ed314ae1cd2e-0.html#unique-entry-id-0My dearest Bunty,
Thank you for your last letter which arrived with Mr Morrison the postman this morning. I have to say that it has arrived not a moment too soon! What has been going on I ask myself? We are right in the middle of the hunting season and Sir Hector is avoiding all the paying guests. I know times are hard and the estate needs the cash, but must we as the landowners join in with the frivolities required? I think not.

Catriona our sturdy Estate Manager has managed to talk Sir Hector around to inviting a hoard of dreadful people to the estate for a few days of shooting. Goodness, you would think that they had never held a gun before! Some of them were more danger to themselves than to the birds. The latter have been sadly absent, but Ruaridh our head gillie tells me, they are there just that the paying guests make so much noise that the birds have fine warning that they are on the way. I am glad I must say, as that is more for Sir Hector and I to have to ourselves whenever we do get a moment to ourselves for a quiet afternoon of shooting.

The days are drawing in up here in Banffshire and I have only just moved into my winter tweeds, and not a day too soon as there was a sharp fall in the overnight temperatures last Monday and those raspberries we had not had taken in all withered on the bush. Such a shame as Cook will not be able to make as much jam for the Estate shop as she had hoped. A tighter squeeze then for the Estate, which will mean more of these dreadful social climbers having to come along to "do the country". You will never guess, but one of the recent "guests" had the nerve to complain about damp in the North Wing of the house. Yes really! As if a house with four-foot thick walls will ever need a damp course, and I do not care that this was the proprietor of a building firm, he is still in trade after all, and from Leeds! Did I ever tell you about that dreadful woman I met when travelling by train last year on the Flying Scot? She was loud brash and opinionated and it has tarnished my love of Yorkshire and the Dales somewhat.

Last evening some of the "wives" arrived yesterday evening. I say "wives" as some of these had never seen the face of a minister in a church service and it was nothing but Common Law companions. And as for country fashion! Not a decent tweed amongst them! All Country Casuals I must say, and not even inherited at that! Loud? I had to take to my bed in disgust, pretending I had a flare up of perennial short term debilitating condition that we country ladies suffer from: New Money-phobia. All that ostentatious display of wealth: diamonds in the countryside and several twisted strands of nasty Japanese pearls before six, Post Meridian. The Misses Forrester who taught us deportment at Cheltenham Ladies College will be turning in their graves. I ask you, is there no end to this?

We have decided not to install access to the Satellite television for the guests. Well it cost so much and really it is for us, dear, me for those wonderfully uplifting programmes on "The Hallmark Channel" and Sir Hector for his occasional horseracing. Well we do need a break from the guests. Not that he has access to his horseracing channel, dear me no. I managed to convince Catriona's teenage son to teach me how to put a parental lock on the box! How Sir Hector fumed without the password! I love technology dear! You must really save up for an electronic mail account. I have read on the BBC that there are cafes in London where you can go to access mail and shop. I am sure these are nothing like Luca's of Musselburgh or Nardini' in Largs and that the ices will be nothing but water, but I am sure that you will be able to get a strong Darjeeling instead.

Cook tells me that she has sent you some damson jelly. How you will get the opportunity to use it on game whilst still on your income I shall never know. You really must keep your chin up, dear, there are enough dowagers about to keep you as companion for years to come.

Your ever friend, Flora
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