After taking up my post as security-caretaker/tour-guide at Mellerstain many hours were spent learning and discovering everything I could about this fabulous place. Gazing out of the south-facing windows one morning something in the distance puzzled me. It looked like some sort of entrance to a building, except there was no building! Just this structure, standing 'twixt some trees about a couple of miles away. I soon discovered it was a part of the Mellerstain estate called Hundy Mundy. A Gothic folly built to draw the eye to the southern extent of Mellerstain House in the Scottish Borders. Built by William Adam circa 1726 it is just a tall archway between square towers, each topped by a stone pyramid. It was built with stone from an old tower house which had once guarded this area from marauding 'reivers' and other thieves. A Pictish Princess called Hunimundias was said to have lived in this tower. Because, so the story goes, the children of Mellerstain couldn't pronounce Hunimundias they called it Hundy Mundy. That name remains today and is on maps and documents concerning this area. There are quite a few of these old 'tower houses' in the Scottish Borders. There's one in the town of Gordon and another in the village of Smailholm, both close to Mellerstain. The Smailholm Tower is a most interesting place to visit. Perched on high ground it commands an extensive view for miles around. These towers were built to house and protect the locals from those who would invade the territory, thieving and murdering if they got half a chance. Using my basic video gadget, which has no optical zoom, it's not possible to show Mellerstain House - other than a smudgy light gap in the trees. The digital zoom feature is next to useless, but heigh-ho - you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear This old folly, Hundy Mundy, is now the centrepiece of a woodland or natural burial site, known as Hundy Mundy Wood, but still owned by Mellerstain Estate.
Saturday, 29 August 2009
The front of Mellerstain House looks north. An expanse of parkland and a good variety of old trees create a peaceful panorama when viewed from any window in the main house.
The east and west wings were designed by William Adam and building started in 1725. A corner stone in the east wing has the date carved into it. The west wing, the home of the 13th Earl of Haddington and his family, was originally used as stable blocks and home for staff.
Work on the main mansion house did not begin until some 45 years later. William Adam's plans for this were not implemented. His son, Robert Adam, was commissioned by George Baillie to build the main house; George had been on "the grand tour of Europe" and, as he'd inherited Mellerstain, thought Robert Adam was the guy to do it. There's a fuller bit of history here: http://tinyurl.com/kpmp4b
The east and west wings were designed by William Adam and building started in 1725. A corner stone in the east wing has the date carved into it. The west wing, the home of the 13th Earl of Haddington and his family, was originally used as stable blocks and home for staff.
Work on the main mansion house did not begin until some 45 years later. William Adam's plans for this were not implemented. His son, Robert Adam, was commissioned by George Baillie to build the main house; George had been on "the grand tour of Europe" and, as he'd inherited Mellerstain, thought Robert Adam was the guy to do it. There's a fuller bit of history here: http://tinyurl.com/kpmp4b
Friday, 28 August 2009
Hello, How Now, What Cheer - What's in a Word?
Stephen Fry had a thirty minute program on BBC Radio4 a few days ago, all about 'Hello'.
I like Mr. Fry; he's an entertaining erudite chap, both on TV and radio. He recently did a sort of tour of America.
Surprised that a small word like 'hello' could fill half an hour so well.
Is it just a greeting? Oh no. It can be an exclamation of surprise. Or a shout.
I was surprised to learn that one of the most used words, worldwide, has only been around since about 1830-something. Before then Shakespeare used the word Holla, a dog shout (holler?) or the greeting then was "How Now" and "What Cheer?" which turns into the cockney 'Wotcha'. My brother used to phone me and say "Wotcha", and I sometimes use it when meeting an old friend. I didn't know, until listening to Mr. Fry, that it was a sort of corruption of Shakespeare's 'what cheer'.
There's an old song which includes the verse:
"Wot cher!" all the neighbors cried
"Who yer gonna meet, Bill
Have yer bought the street, Bill"?
Laugh! I thought I should've died
Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road
The last line above is the title of the song from the movie "The Little Princess" (1939) starring Shirley Temple!
I was surprised also to learn that 'hello' was probably first used in North America and imported into the UK by none other than Charles Dickens! It seems that in a play about Davy Crocket he says: "Hello, friend, don't forget that vote."
Dickens toured American around that time and in his "Christmas Carol" he uses the phrase "Hello, my fine fellow..." So, like the grey squirrel, we imported the word from the U.S.A. - according to Mr. Fry!
Then came the telephone. Bell invented it in around 1876. He apparently wanted the word "Ahoy" to be used when answering this amazing new invention. However, Edison, who also had wished he'd invented this before Bell, voted more for the word "Hello" to be used. And quite right too! Just imagine answering your phone "Ahoy there".
According to Mr. Fry, George Bernard Shaw once did a spell on a telephone exchange, as an operator and answered all calls with "Hello, what is wanted?" Well I never!
In 1913 a well-known song was written:
"Hello! Hello! Who's your lady friend?
Who's the little girl by your side?
I've seen you with a girl or two.
Oh! Oh! Oh! I'm (I AM) surprised at you."
Here the word "Hello" is used as a greeting, then as a word of surprise!
Then of course we have the famous "Hello, hello, hello.. what's going on 'ere then?" used by policemen! (in the UK I hasten to add)
A joke:
A policeman arrives home unexpectedly and finds his wife in bed with three strange men.
"Hello, hello, hello ..." says Mr. Policeman, whereupon his wife bursts into tears.
"Why are you crying, my love?" asks the husband.
"You never said hello to ME" sobs his wife! Boom, boom.
I like Mr. Fry; he's an entertaining erudite chap, both on TV and radio. He recently did a sort of tour of America.
Surprised that a small word like 'hello' could fill half an hour so well.
Is it just a greeting? Oh no. It can be an exclamation of surprise. Or a shout.
I was surprised to learn that one of the most used words, worldwide, has only been around since about 1830-something. Before then Shakespeare used the word Holla, a dog shout (holler?) or the greeting then was "How Now" and "What Cheer?" which turns into the cockney 'Wotcha'. My brother used to phone me and say "Wotcha", and I sometimes use it when meeting an old friend. I didn't know, until listening to Mr. Fry, that it was a sort of corruption of Shakespeare's 'what cheer'.
There's an old song which includes the verse:
"Wot cher!" all the neighbors cried
"Who yer gonna meet, Bill
Have yer bought the street, Bill"?
Laugh! I thought I should've died
Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road
The last line above is the title of the song from the movie "The Little Princess" (1939) starring Shirley Temple!
I was surprised also to learn that 'hello' was probably first used in North America and imported into the UK by none other than Charles Dickens! It seems that in a play about Davy Crocket he says: "Hello, friend, don't forget that vote."
Dickens toured American around that time and in his "Christmas Carol" he uses the phrase "Hello, my fine fellow..." So, like the grey squirrel, we imported the word from the U.S.A. - according to Mr. Fry!
Then came the telephone. Bell invented it in around 1876. He apparently wanted the word "Ahoy" to be used when answering this amazing new invention. However, Edison, who also had wished he'd invented this before Bell, voted more for the word "Hello" to be used. And quite right too! Just imagine answering your phone "Ahoy there".
According to Mr. Fry, George Bernard Shaw once did a spell on a telephone exchange, as an operator and answered all calls with "Hello, what is wanted?" Well I never!
In 1913 a well-known song was written:
"Hello! Hello! Who's your lady friend?
Who's the little girl by your side?
I've seen you with a girl or two.
Oh! Oh! Oh! I'm (I AM) surprised at you."
Here the word "Hello" is used as a greeting, then as a word of surprise!
Then of course we have the famous "Hello, hello, hello.. what's going on 'ere then?" used by policemen! (in the UK I hasten to add)
A joke:
A policeman arrives home unexpectedly and finds his wife in bed with three strange men.
"Hello, hello, hello ..." says Mr. Policeman, whereupon his wife bursts into tears.
"Why are you crying, my love?" asks the husband.
"You never said hello to ME" sobs his wife! Boom, boom.
Thursday, 27 August 2009
Formal Gardens at Mellerstain on a Windy Day.
Took a snap video of the formal gardens at Mellerstain. It is a blustery and dampish day and the noise of the wind in the mike is unavoidable with this little handheld gizmo.
It'll get better in due course (or so I kid myself!).
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
A Walk on the Wild Side on a Wet August Day
I went for a walk around Mellerstain House this afternoon with my new toy, a Flip video thingy. After traipsing all round the main gardens, looking for Gordon Low, the gardener, I eventually found him in the old tea-cottage.
This tiny two-roomed cottage was built in circa 1840 and at one point housed one of the house-keeping ladies!
The Flip Ultra video is cheap and cheerful. It is very, very simple to use. Just a big red button to push when you want to start and stop. Plugs directly into a USB port to transfer clips onto the laptop/pc. Basic editing stuff included.
I may be trying to upload a few more clips later on. OK, OK, you don't have to watch! It's not compulsory. ;-)
Tuesday, 25 August 2009
Jacques Brel: Ne Me Quitte Pas (Don't Leave Me)
This is my favourite song. I discovered it just a few years ago. Jacques Brel puts so much pure emotion into this version it really gets to me.
I don't speak French. Yet I love this video. I think it cannot be bettered by any other recording. The Brel lyrics are superbly poetic. The French language is so beautiful, even to a muppet such as I, who cannot speak it.
Brel was born in Belgium but lived half his life in Paris. He died in a Paris suburb of lung cancer; he was a very heavy smoker, giving up near the end of his life - far too late.
Jacques Brel died in 1978 aged only 49. His death was widely mourned in both France and Belgium. He is buried close to the painter, Paul Gauguin, on the Island of Hiva Oa in the Marquesas Islands.
I have most of his recordings; he sings with such passion. His recordings of "Amsterdam" and "Jef" are great, but Ne Me Quitte Pas is superlative, in my opinion.
There have been hundreds of different recordings of Brel's works. The English version of Ne Me Quitte Pas is "If You Go Away", recorded by numerous singers such as Dusty Springfield and Shirley Bassey. This version is very good, but you just cannot beat the original French version, especially the Jacques Brel rendition above.
Sunday, 23 August 2009
Freedom of the Town of Echt, Holland
Click on the above photos to enlarge.I took the above two snapshots on a beautiful Sunday in August 1955. All the RAF personnel at Bruggen, W.Germany, had been given the freedom of the town of Echt, a lovely small town on the Dutch/German borders.
One evening, some weeks earlier, the Mayor of Echt arranged for a concert to be given by the Echt town orchestra in the RAF Bruggen camp cinema/theatre. It was a great evening and introduced me to some lovely light classical music.
Our commanding officer was asked by the Mayor if the pipes and drum camp band would return the compliment and entertain the people of Echt. Now, some of you might well consider that a bagpipe band is not in the same league, entertainment-wise, as an orchestra. And I would agree with you.
However, many others will say that the bagpipes stirs the emotions, especially if you are a Scot, (which I am not). Our commanding officer was a keen bagpipe man - and he was not a Scotsman either! He was only too pleased to arrange for our band to play in the town square of Echt and the Mayor then said that all the RAF chaps who attended would be given the 'freedom' of the town.
Saturday came and the C.O. was upset to learn that one of the bagpipes had been damaged. He immediately ordered that one of our jet fighters fly from Germany to Scotland to pick up either a new set or a replacement part; I cannot remember exactly which. This was speedily carried out. All was now well.
The parade through Echt was a great success. It seemed that the whole town turned out to watch and applaud the pipe band. We were all treated with great friendliness; I've never yet met a Netherlander who was unpleasant. Many speak excellent English, putting most Brits to shame.
The Mayor gave a 'thank you' speech that day, during which he said how grateful the town was to the RAF during world war 2. Not one brick was damaged throughout the war. No person was killed or injured by our bombers as they roared over the town, seeking out enemy targets day and night. It was a genuinely emotional speech by a man who had been through those terrible years.
A day in my life that remains vidid. I wonder what's happened to all the bag-pipers?
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
Tree Planting at Mellerstain
Mellerstain house
Planting a Hornbeam tree.
John Haddington is, in fact, a first class photographer and used to run a business as a pro photographer when he was Lord Binning, before acceding to the title of the 13th Earl of Haddington.
Planting a Hornbeam tree.
Planting a tree in recognition of the work of volunteers working for Guide Dogs of the Blind in the east paddock at Mellerstain. This was one of the charities supported by Lord and Lady Haddington.
These snapshots I took show Lady Jane Haddington shovelling compost into the hole dug by Gordon Low, the gardener at Mellerstain. The picture below right shows Lord John Haddington watching the ceremony of the planting in readiness to take a photograph when he feels the time is just right!
The smallish lady in the centre is Miss Kay Brownlie. She was president of the local branch of the Guide Dogs for the Blind at Mellerstain for 
many years and has now retired from that post.
many years and has now retired from that post.John Haddington is, in fact, a first class photographer and used to run a business as a pro photographer when he was Lord Binning, before acceding to the title of the 13th Earl of Haddington.
The first son of the Earl is always given the title of Lord Binning. The present Lord Binning is George Edmund Baldred Baillie-Hamilton, the only son. He is now 23 years of age; I've known him since he was about 9 years old. He is a great lad, now at Glasgow University after being at Eton.
We went to his 21st birthday party a couple of years ago and it was a truly happy affair. One of the tenant farmers gave a little speech as he gave young Georgie a new fishing rod. Tom S., the farmer said: "Young George, I wish you a very happy birthday and many, many happy hours of sitting in the wind and rain on the banks of the Tweed with this rod..."
What next in the chain of events? Well, hopefully in the not too distant future we shall hear the whisper that Georgie has popped the question to some nice young lady. Then the wedding. Then, with fingers firmly crossed, Lord and Lady H will have a lovely little grandchild. What a wonderful event that will be. Mellerstain
Monday, 17 August 2009
A Snapshot of the Two of Us
My only grumble about this cottage is the amount of grass cutting I have to attend to. This shot is of our 'front' garden. I have another area of grass to keep under control in our 'back' garden!
The above was taken about a couple of years ago my wife, Pat, was still smoking cigarettes. A month later she gave up the nasty weed, with the aid of nictotine patches. It's not easy to quit this habit but she was ordered so to do by the medics. She succeeded, with just one minor backslide, and has now been nicotine free for virtually two years. I gave up in 1972. Just stopped it; felt so enslaved by it and hated it.
I need a gardener. One who would tend the grass, the plants, and the weeds!
No takers for the 'Pick you own' weeds even though I asked no fee. Can't understand it. I have some of the best weeds in the Scottish Borders.
Friday, 14 August 2009
A Child and Understanding Death
On the 14th December 1995 Lord Haddington's mother, the Dowager Countess, Lady Sarah Haddington, died. She was a few months short of 100 and had been quite frail for some time.
I'd been living in the east wing of Mellerstain for just a couple of months. The winter snow blanketed the countryside; pristine white and beautiful.
Lord Haddington's mother, Lady Sarah, was brought back to Mellerstain from the Nenthorn House nursing home. Her coffin was laid on trestles in the centre of the library. She laid there facing south, looking towards the serene snow-white back gardens.
Here she would stay for a few days; her many friends and relatives would come to say their final goodbyes.
Four large candles were at each corner of the coffin. I would light them at about 8 a.m. and douse them at 8 p.m. each day.
On the second morning Lady Jane Haddington came into the library just after I'd lit the candles. With her was little Isobel, aged five. Isobel (full title Lady Isobel Jean Baillie-Hamilton) is the youngest of the three children.
The two of them stood there quietly for a moment or two, Isobel holding her Mum's hand. It was very quiet and Isobel was looking up at the coffin.
She then looked at her mother and, pointing to the coffin said: "Is Grandmama in there, Mummy?"
"Yes dear." That was all that Lady Jane said. There was a pause for a few moments.
Isobel then said: "Well, can I see her Mummy?"
"No dear." And another few moments went by.
Isobel: "Well why can't I see her?"
"Darling, it's only her body in there; she's gone to live in Heaven."
Isobel was still unsure. "Yes, but why can't I ..." and with that Lady Jane headed for the door, still clutching little Isobel's hand.
I can remember that episode as though it were just today. I went to the west wing in June this year to give Isobel her 18th birthday card and small gift. She is still that young pretty-faced girl to me. I retold the above story to her; she had no recollection of it. I am not surprised. So much has happened in the intervening years; prep school and then boarding school down in the south of England.
She had recently returned from a few months in South Africa, working at a Lodge in her gap year. She will soon be going to uni, reading philosophy. How fast this tempus fugits!!
I'd been living in the east wing of Mellerstain for just a couple of months. The winter snow blanketed the countryside; pristine white and beautiful.
Lord Haddington's mother, Lady Sarah, was brought back to Mellerstain from the Nenthorn House nursing home. Her coffin was laid on trestles in the centre of the library. She laid there facing south, looking towards the serene snow-white back gardens.
Here she would stay for a few days; her many friends and relatives would come to say their final goodbyes.
Four large candles were at each corner of the coffin. I would light them at about 8 a.m. and douse them at 8 p.m. each day.
On the second morning Lady Jane Haddington came into the library just after I'd lit the candles. With her was little Isobel, aged five. Isobel (full title Lady Isobel Jean Baillie-Hamilton) is the youngest of the three children.
The two of them stood there quietly for a moment or two, Isobel holding her Mum's hand. It was very quiet and Isobel was looking up at the coffin.
She then looked at her mother and, pointing to the coffin said: "Is Grandmama in there, Mummy?"
"Yes dear." That was all that Lady Jane said. There was a pause for a few moments.
Isobel then said: "Well, can I see her Mummy?"
"No dear." And another few moments went by.
Isobel: "Well why can't I see her?"
"Darling, it's only her body in there; she's gone to live in Heaven."
Isobel was still unsure. "Yes, but why can't I ..." and with that Lady Jane headed for the door, still clutching little Isobel's hand.
I can remember that episode as though it were just today. I went to the west wing in June this year to give Isobel her 18th birthday card and small gift. She is still that young pretty-faced girl to me. I retold the above story to her; she had no recollection of it. I am not surprised. So much has happened in the intervening years; prep school and then boarding school down in the south of England.
She had recently returned from a few months in South Africa, working at a Lodge in her gap year. She will soon be going to uni, reading philosophy. How fast this tempus fugits!!
Tuesday, 11 August 2009
The Dowager Countess, her Sister, and the Lady's Maid
I'd been living in the east wing of Mellerstain House for about a year or so. The mother of the 13th Earl of Haddington was living in a private nursing home at Nenthorn. She was almost 100 years of age.
Her sister,who had never married, about 2 years older than old Lady Haddington, also lived in this same nursing home.
A third elderly lady also lived in the Nenthorn nursing home. This was Chrissie Crombie, old Lady Haddington's personal maid.
At the top of the east tower there is "the Crombie flat". This was once the home of Chrissie Crombie; it is still called the Crombie flat even though it has not been occupied for a good few years now.
My wife and I used to visit the nursing home on Sundays. We used to see the three old ladies. Two of them were always asleep in a chair when we called in. Chrissie was always awake and she loved to talk about her days "in service".
Chrissie was now wheelchair bound. She laughingly blamed her clapped out knees on old Lady Haddington! Traipsing up and down the many stairs to and from her flat at the top of the east tower had been the cause of her knee problem.
She laughed as she told us this. In fact, it was really a fall she'd had that had caused the damage. Chrissie was a cheerful soul. She said she'd loved her job as the lady's maid and she meant it.
We never did get to speak with old Lady Sarah Haddington, nor to her sister. They were always having a nap when we called. They both died before Chrissie.
The Nenthorn House home was closed down soon after the two old ladies died. Chrissie was moved to another home, much to her dismay. She too died soon after the move. She was about 95.
Chrissie's reminiscences about her 'lady's maid' days made the tv series "Upstairs, Downstairs" seem so true to life in those long gone Edwardian days. In Chrissie's case she was the 'upstairs' one; in the tv series all the staff were the 'downstairs' ones.
A totally different world now though. Fewer servants, butlers and even gardeners compared to only 60 or so years ago. Apart from the Royals that is; though I think perhaps the Queen is cutting back to some degree!
Her sister,who had never married, about 2 years older than old Lady Haddington, also lived in this same nursing home.
A third elderly lady also lived in the Nenthorn nursing home. This was Chrissie Crombie, old Lady Haddington's personal maid.
At the top of the east tower there is "the Crombie flat". This was once the home of Chrissie Crombie; it is still called the Crombie flat even though it has not been occupied for a good few years now.
My wife and I used to visit the nursing home on Sundays. We used to see the three old ladies. Two of them were always asleep in a chair when we called in. Chrissie was always awake and she loved to talk about her days "in service".
Chrissie was now wheelchair bound. She laughingly blamed her clapped out knees on old Lady Haddington! Traipsing up and down the many stairs to and from her flat at the top of the east tower had been the cause of her knee problem.
She laughed as she told us this. In fact, it was really a fall she'd had that had caused the damage. Chrissie was a cheerful soul. She said she'd loved her job as the lady's maid and she meant it.
We never did get to speak with old Lady Sarah Haddington, nor to her sister. They were always having a nap when we called. They both died before Chrissie.
The Nenthorn House home was closed down soon after the two old ladies died. Chrissie was moved to another home, much to her dismay. She too died soon after the move. She was about 95.
Chrissie's reminiscences about her 'lady's maid' days made the tv series "Upstairs, Downstairs" seem so true to life in those long gone Edwardian days. In Chrissie's case she was the 'upstairs' one; in the tv series all the staff were the 'downstairs' ones.
A totally different world now though. Fewer servants, butlers and even gardeners compared to only 60 or so years ago. Apart from the Royals that is; though I think perhaps the Queen is cutting back to some degree!
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Off to Lincolnshire for a long weekend.
On Friday 31 July we shall be driving down to see my youngest daughter Clare and the two grandchildren, Jake and Ellie. It's a long car journey but will be worth it.
And another thing: our private water supply has sprung a serious leak! We are reduced to using bottled water for drinking and cooking etc., as the normal supply has to be fixed. It may take a couple of days.
So, off we jolly well go to Lincolnshire for a short while. Looking forward to seeing Clare, Jake, Ellie and the man of the house, Andy.
By the way, my daughter is a great artist and makes her living by sculpting one-of-a-kind fantasy dolls, such as faeries and things. She sells on commission and via eBay. If you care to see some of her work check out her website: fairytasia.co.uk and see what a clever and talented daughter we are blessed with.
And another thing: our private water supply has sprung a serious leak! We are reduced to using bottled water for drinking and cooking etc., as the normal supply has to be fixed. It may take a couple of days.
So, off we jolly well go to Lincolnshire for a short while. Looking forward to seeing Clare, Jake, Ellie and the man of the house, Andy.
By the way, my daughter is a great artist and makes her living by sculpting one-of-a-kind fantasy dolls, such as faeries and things. She sells on commission and via eBay. If you care to see some of her work check out her website: fairytasia.co.uk and see what a clever and talented daughter we are blessed with.
Wednesday, 22 July 2009
The Earl and Countess of Haddington
Mellerstain House is the only large country mansion built solely by Robert Adam. His father, William, built the east and west wings in the early 1700s but the main house is by his more famous son Robert.
Robert Adam built a large place in London called The Adelphi Terrace but this was largely demolished some 80 years ago. Robert Adam's main works were extensions and alterations to existing houses therefore Mellerstain House is unique. It is also most beautifully designed inside. Exquisite plaster-work, especially on the ceilings, needs to be seen to be believed.
I still can't believe that this place became our home for a few years. I think the word serendipity applies. Life just happens, does it not? No matter how clever we think we are we have no control over the way life treats us.
OK, we all end up in the same way, sooner or later, but what happens along life's highway is, more often than not, luck. Well, that's my story - and I'm sticking to it!
It was pure luck that my wife and I ended up here in the Scottish Borders, living in part of Mellerstain House, the family home of the Earl and Countess of Haddington. Two of the nicest people on God's earth. Two of the best people I've ever known.
Above is a recent snapshot of them, taken from part of their website. The Earl is holding one of his chickens. He is extremely fond of birds and has an aviary in his courtyard with various and colourful examples. Elsewhere there are the free-range chickens and cockerels and on the lake there are two resident swans.
The swans produce up to eight or so cygnets each year. Swans are said to be lifelong mates but this year it seems that there are two female swans now residing on the lake. Ménage à trois mayhap?
One of the great pleasures when living here is meeting people from all over the world who come to the UK and discover Mellerstain House. The vast majority fall in love with the place. Some of them have become friends of ours. None of this would have happened without Lady Luck holding my hand for all of my life.
I don't know if there are ghosts. Or if there is a God. Or if there are leprechauns, fairies and angels.
But I do know Lady Luck exists - for all of us.
Friday, 17 July 2009
The Ghost of the Rose Bedroom
Whether or not you believe in the paranormal - and I do not - one often experiences strange happenings.
Have you ever been certain that you know exactly what is about to happen at a particular point? Do you understand what I mean?
Sometimes I've been having a conversation and I know precisely what is going to be said, just before it is said. The surroundings are exactly the same, everything is just as I know it will be. It's as though I'd experienced this whole scene and conversation some time in the past. Déjá vu is, I think, the term we use.
I cannot understand this phenomenon; I just know I've experienced it more than once.
Well, certain other inexplicable things happen all the time. Not all the time to me, but occasionally - especially since I came to live in Mellerstain House. This is just one of those 'strange things'.
It's now about six months since my wife and I came to Mellerstain House. I've studied the history of the place, its origins and inhabitants over almost three centuries. Fascinating stuff too. I need to know all about its history so that visitors touring the house can get answers to their questions.
Easter, 1996, and we are open to the public. I have a group of 20 Dutch tourists to take on a conducted tour. Most of the group speak perfect English; they put we Brits to shame!
Mellerstain has a strong connection with Holland. Lady Grisell Baillie, the eldest of 18 children of Sir Patrick Hume, were in exile in Utrecht, Holland, for some time, owing to Sir Patrick's alleged involvement in the Rye House Plot. Grisel took care of all the family whilst in hiding in Holland. She is one of Scotland's great heroines.
During this conducted tour I took the group of tourists into the Rose Bedroom. This is the only north facing bedroom in the house. Although it is a pretty room it always has a chill feel to it. One could possibly expect this, after all it does face north.
After a brief chat about the room and its original hand-printed rose-pattern wall-paper, the group filed out of the room heading for the first of the south-facing bedrooms, the Manchineel Bedroom. As the final member of the group entered the Manchineel room I looked back towards the Rose Bedroom. I just caught sight of a woman entering the Rose Bedroom. I asked the group leader to stay with the group whilst I nipped swiftly back to the Rose Bedroom.
As I approached the door I called out "Excuse me madam, but we've been in this room already ..." No reply. There was nobody in the room. I looked behind the black Chinese screen - nothing. I opened the door to the en suite bathroom; nothing, nobody there either. There is only one way in and out of the bedroom and the bathroom. Both were completely empty.
Yet I was certain of what I'd seen. Strange, but the tour had to go on.
Later that day Lord Haddington asked me how I'd got on with the house visitors. It was most enjoyable I said. I also mentioned that I thought I'd seen somebody go into the Rose Bedroom but found nobody there.
"Oh, that's Lady Grisell doing her rounds I suppose." he said. "Was she dressed in grey?"
"Yes, I think so - but it must have been a shadow or something; there was definitely nobody in the room or the bathroom." I replied.
The Earl said: "You're not the first who have seen her. She's our resident ghost!"
Lord Haddington has a great interest in the paranormal. He was, until a couple of years ago, president of a Crop Circle group and still likes to investigate new occurrences of these things. He is a most interesting and knowledgeable chap in many areas.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy ... (to quote the Bard's Hamlet).
Have you ever been certain that you know exactly what is about to happen at a particular point? Do you understand what I mean?
Sometimes I've been having a conversation and I know precisely what is going to be said, just before it is said. The surroundings are exactly the same, everything is just as I know it will be. It's as though I'd experienced this whole scene and conversation some time in the past. Déjá vu is, I think, the term we use.
I cannot understand this phenomenon; I just know I've experienced it more than once.
Well, certain other inexplicable things happen all the time. Not all the time to me, but occasionally - especially since I came to live in Mellerstain House. This is just one of those 'strange things'.
It's now about six months since my wife and I came to Mellerstain House. I've studied the history of the place, its origins and inhabitants over almost three centuries. Fascinating stuff too. I need to know all about its history so that visitors touring the house can get answers to their questions.
Easter, 1996, and we are open to the public. I have a group of 20 Dutch tourists to take on a conducted tour. Most of the group speak perfect English; they put we Brits to shame!
Mellerstain has a strong connection with Holland. Lady Grisell Baillie, the eldest of 18 children of Sir Patrick Hume, were in exile in Utrecht, Holland, for some time, owing to Sir Patrick's alleged involvement in the Rye House Plot. Grisel took care of all the family whilst in hiding in Holland. She is one of Scotland's great heroines.
During this conducted tour I took the group of tourists into the Rose Bedroom. This is the only north facing bedroom in the house. Although it is a pretty room it always has a chill feel to it. One could possibly expect this, after all it does face north.
After a brief chat about the room and its original hand-printed rose-pattern wall-paper, the group filed out of the room heading for the first of the south-facing bedrooms, the Manchineel Bedroom. As the final member of the group entered the Manchineel room I looked back towards the Rose Bedroom. I just caught sight of a woman entering the Rose Bedroom. I asked the group leader to stay with the group whilst I nipped swiftly back to the Rose Bedroom.
As I approached the door I called out "Excuse me madam, but we've been in this room already ..." No reply. There was nobody in the room. I looked behind the black Chinese screen - nothing. I opened the door to the en suite bathroom; nothing, nobody there either. There is only one way in and out of the bedroom and the bathroom. Both were completely empty.
Yet I was certain of what I'd seen. Strange, but the tour had to go on.
Later that day Lord Haddington asked me how I'd got on with the house visitors. It was most enjoyable I said. I also mentioned that I thought I'd seen somebody go into the Rose Bedroom but found nobody there.
"Oh, that's Lady Grisell doing her rounds I suppose." he said. "Was she dressed in grey?"
"Yes, I think so - but it must have been a shadow or something; there was definitely nobody in the room or the bathroom." I replied.
The Earl said: "You're not the first who have seen her. She's our resident ghost!"
Lord Haddington has a great interest in the paranormal. He was, until a couple of years ago, president of a Crop Circle group and still likes to investigate new occurrences of these things. He is a most interesting and knowledgeable chap in many areas.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy ... (to quote the Bard's Hamlet).
Thursday, 16 July 2009
In the Mood for Love - A brief encounter ...
I thought I'd offer just one of my favourite film clips and theme music, just for something completely different, as Monty Python's Flying Circus would say.
This film came my way via a free DVD with a Sunday Newspaper. It is Chinese and it took years to get right. It is a story about two people who have unhappy marriages and they find comfort in each other, well, sort of. The music is totally hypnotic I feel. The acting is superb, as is the direction by Wong Kar-wai. The two main characters are played to perfection by Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung. Maggie Cheung said that this film took so much out of her that she declined to take part in the subsequent film "2046".
Anyway, I think it's one of the best films I've ever seen; I play it at least once every three or four months and love it more each time.
This film came my way via a free DVD with a Sunday Newspaper. It is Chinese and it took years to get right. It is a story about two people who have unhappy marriages and they find comfort in each other, well, sort of. The music is totally hypnotic I feel. The acting is superb, as is the direction by Wong Kar-wai. The two main characters are played to perfection by Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung. Maggie Cheung said that this film took so much out of her that she declined to take part in the subsequent film "2046".
Anyway, I think it's one of the best films I've ever seen; I play it at least once every three or four months and love it more each time.
Monday, 13 July 2009
It'll All End in Tears - Floods of Them
And the days dwindled down, October, November ... and these precious days were spent in peaceful learning of the history of Mellerstain and its occupants over the years.
We all learn something new every day. Often inconsequential things, or even silly things; but we go on learning. I'd say that this is what most humans try to do: keep on learning.
It's a bit like blogging. You read one and it interests you. From that one you link to another. The web expands. It seems endlessly interesting. That started me off writing this potted biography.
I delved into the archives of Mellerstain. Spoke with the Haddington family to get some personal history. Many people I spoke to seemed only too pleased to impart nuggets of interest concerning the house, its history, former occupants and the Scottish Borders generally.
The Borders certainly has a history! Quite bloody for a lot of the time, especially concerning "The Reivers". I learnt quite a lot in a couple of months.
Each year, in December, the Earl and Countess throw a Christmas party for all the staff: the gardeners, the tenant farmers and workers, the cleaners and house-keepers,the gamekeeper, the house guides and some retired people. This December was our first Christmas party at Mellerstain and it was just great.
We got to know all the people who help to keep this wonderful estate in pristine condition. Everybody is invited, including wives and children. Towards the end of the festivities one of the Haddington children would delight in handing out the carefully wrapped Christmas gifts. A genuinely warm and pleasurable time.
And this December we had an abundance of snow! Scotland and snow go well together as you probably know. The whole area was blanketed in virgin snow. For days and days, sheer white. And it was cold. Never mind, we had the boilers going full blast and cosy log fires blazing away in the sitting room. Almost a fairytale situation.
December 31st, 1995 and we were still snowbound. We retired at about 1 o'clock, having spent a while seeing the New Year in. Three months had flown by.
Next morning I got up and looked out of the south-facing window of the bedroom. And the first thing that struck me was patches of green showing through the long sweep of lawn down to the frozen lake. A thaw had set in. Much as we liked the snowy scenes all around us it was good to see some colour at last.
But what was that odd sound I could hear in the background. Sounded a bit like a splashing fountain, a waterfall even. Got dressed quickly. Went downstairs to the Stone Hall. The sound of rushing water increased. Unlocked the door from the Stone Hall into the east passageway into the main house and I stood aghast!
Water was pouring through the ceiling, from the electric lights. Gushing down; the carpeting was sopping wet. I rushed down to the basement. It was swimming in water! A good inch or so was swilling away on the stone floor. It was a nightmare on New Years Day!
I phoned across to the Earl. He came running through the basement area from the west wing. We placed buckets under the water but they filled up so quickly it was hopeless.
The Earl had no idea where the stopcocks were; neither did I. Oh! this was calamitous. And the water kept flooding down. I phoned the now retired security/caretaker, Brian Ellis. He told me to find a door in the basement, next to the wine cellar and shine a torch inside. There I would find two iron wheels, like steering wheels. These were the stopcocks!
Shutting these down was fairly easy, but the water still cascaded down. The whole supply comes from an elevated supply about a third of a mile from the north front of the house. It rises to large storage tanks in the central tower. This central tower then feeds two other large storage tanks: one in the west tower and one in the east tower. It would take a while for the east tower tank to empty when the water to the central tower was cut off. But stop it did, eventually.
All this on New Year's Day! In Scotland this day is a regular holiday. Hogmanay the night before so today would be a getting-over-it-day for most Scots. The Earl and family were the only other occupants of the house today and we all spent hours mopping up as best we could. Fortunately it was only the east tower tank that caused the problem. The supply pipe had frozen during the cold spell and expanded the joint leading into the tank. This pipe was where the water was gushing from.
The next thing was to see the full extent of the damage, get the insurance people involved, and the plumbers, electricians and other necessary people.
There were many other flooding problems reported that day. A bank in Kelso was badly damaged and other homes and businesses suffered likewise. We were not alone, but that was cold comfort, so to speak.
We all learn something new every day. Often inconsequential things, or even silly things; but we go on learning. I'd say that this is what most humans try to do: keep on learning.
It's a bit like blogging. You read one and it interests you. From that one you link to another. The web expands. It seems endlessly interesting. That started me off writing this potted biography.
I delved into the archives of Mellerstain. Spoke with the Haddington family to get some personal history. Many people I spoke to seemed only too pleased to impart nuggets of interest concerning the house, its history, former occupants and the Scottish Borders generally.
The Borders certainly has a history! Quite bloody for a lot of the time, especially concerning "The Reivers". I learnt quite a lot in a couple of months.
Each year, in December, the Earl and Countess throw a Christmas party for all the staff: the gardeners, the tenant farmers and workers, the cleaners and house-keepers,the gamekeeper, the house guides and some retired people. This December was our first Christmas party at Mellerstain and it was just great.
We got to know all the people who help to keep this wonderful estate in pristine condition. Everybody is invited, including wives and children. Towards the end of the festivities one of the Haddington children would delight in handing out the carefully wrapped Christmas gifts. A genuinely warm and pleasurable time.
And this December we had an abundance of snow! Scotland and snow go well together as you probably know. The whole area was blanketed in virgin snow. For days and days, sheer white. And it was cold. Never mind, we had the boilers going full blast and cosy log fires blazing away in the sitting room. Almost a fairytale situation.
December 31st, 1995 and we were still snowbound. We retired at about 1 o'clock, having spent a while seeing the New Year in. Three months had flown by.
Next morning I got up and looked out of the south-facing window of the bedroom. And the first thing that struck me was patches of green showing through the long sweep of lawn down to the frozen lake. A thaw had set in. Much as we liked the snowy scenes all around us it was good to see some colour at last.
But what was that odd sound I could hear in the background. Sounded a bit like a splashing fountain, a waterfall even. Got dressed quickly. Went downstairs to the Stone Hall. The sound of rushing water increased. Unlocked the door from the Stone Hall into the east passageway into the main house and I stood aghast!
Water was pouring through the ceiling, from the electric lights. Gushing down; the carpeting was sopping wet. I rushed down to the basement. It was swimming in water! A good inch or so was swilling away on the stone floor. It was a nightmare on New Years Day!
I phoned across to the Earl. He came running through the basement area from the west wing. We placed buckets under the water but they filled up so quickly it was hopeless.
The Earl had no idea where the stopcocks were; neither did I. Oh! this was calamitous. And the water kept flooding down. I phoned the now retired security/caretaker, Brian Ellis. He told me to find a door in the basement, next to the wine cellar and shine a torch inside. There I would find two iron wheels, like steering wheels. These were the stopcocks!
Shutting these down was fairly easy, but the water still cascaded down. The whole supply comes from an elevated supply about a third of a mile from the north front of the house. It rises to large storage tanks in the central tower. This central tower then feeds two other large storage tanks: one in the west tower and one in the east tower. It would take a while for the east tower tank to empty when the water to the central tower was cut off. But stop it did, eventually.
All this on New Year's Day! In Scotland this day is a regular holiday. Hogmanay the night before so today would be a getting-over-it-day for most Scots. The Earl and family were the only other occupants of the house today and we all spent hours mopping up as best we could. Fortunately it was only the east tower tank that caused the problem. The supply pipe had frozen during the cold spell and expanded the joint leading into the tank. This pipe was where the water was gushing from.
The next thing was to see the full extent of the damage, get the insurance people involved, and the plumbers, electricians and other necessary people.
There were many other flooding problems reported that day. A bank in Kelso was badly damaged and other homes and businesses suffered likewise. We were not alone, but that was cold comfort, so to speak.
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Enter the Dragon - And the Police
Peering into the far darkness of the night waiting for the flashing blue lights and headlamps of the cops car. The immediate surrounds of Mellerstain were now bathed in bright white lights from all the floodlights triggered by the alarm system.
A few minutes had gone by and then the fast-moving headlamps came snaking through the pitch darkness from the west gates along the driveway leading to the main house.
Scrambling down the well-trodden stone spiral stairs in my slippers and dressing gown I opened the front door of the Stone Hall. A sergeant and a constable entered. Two minutes later another car arrived with two more officers.
If there were any intruders they would soon be sorted out.
"Which area caused the alarm?" asked the sergeant. "The east basement area." I replied.
We all trooped down to this area, unlocking a series of doors on the way. This basement corridor is a lengthy one. Running from the old east wing, through the newer Robert Adam main building and ending at the home of the Haddingtons in the west wing. Probably about 300 feet or more long, with various rooms on the south side and stairways on the north side leading up to the ground floor.
Everything was securely locked still. All doors and windows intact down here; better just check the ground floor though. It took about twenty minutes before we were confident that it was sweet F.A. - or a not so welcome False Alarm.
What caused it? Who could say. These things happen the sergeant said. That may be so I thought but it's not something I relished.
We were retracing our steps through the basement corridor, locking doors on the way, when something flashed by our heads. Then another!
"Bats!" yelled a policeman. "You've got bats in the basement!"
Well I never! I'd heard of bats in the belfry, but bats in the basement? Yoiks!
"That's probably your problem." said sergeant policeman. "They can be a bit of a menace when it comes to these sensitive movement sensors. You need to get the Chubb security engineer to see if he can do something about it."
Next day I rang the security company and the engineer arrived that afternoon. He said that this had happened now and again. "We've adjusted the sensitivity as much as we dare. We cannot decrease it further I'm afraid."
Not a happy outcome as far as I was concerned. Bats are a protected species in the UK and must not be removed or disturbed, even if you found where they were hiding. It seemed that I'd just have to live with the problem, but I wasn't too keen on that.
The security engineer explained that a bat flying close to the sensor could set the alarm off, as we'd just experienced. He then came up with a possible solution: fit a second sensor, close to the original one, programmed in such a way as to only set off the alarm if both sensors were activated simultaneously.
This would not guarantee a solution but it would certainly go a long way to curing the problem of false alarms in this area. A bat passing close to one of the sensors would not start the alarm; it would need two bats to simultaneously trigger each sensor and this was pretty unlikely. However, if a person was in the area then this would definitely trigger both sensors immediately.
After discussing this with the factor it was agreed that additional sensors would be worthwhile. This made me a lot happier! No doubt it would also make the police a lot happier. So it was quickly carried out and hopefully my sleep would not be disturbed too much in future.
A few days later, as I was locking up in the basement area, I noticed something like a large leaf on the floor. On closer inspection, as I went to pick it up, I saw it was, yes, a bat. It wasn't moving; I thought it must be dead. Bats don't usually go to sleep on the floor, do they?
I went upstairs and put on a pair of gardening gloves. Down to the basement and the bat was still lying there. Gently pick it up. It moved slightly. Took it into the east courtyard carefully placed it on the side of an old stone wall. It didn't fall off; it just seemed to cling there. I left it to its fate. No doubt there were other bats in the vicinity and hopefully it would survive.
I wondered what further discoveries would come my way in this lovely old place.
A few minutes had gone by and then the fast-moving headlamps came snaking through the pitch darkness from the west gates along the driveway leading to the main house.
Scrambling down the well-trodden stone spiral stairs in my slippers and dressing gown I opened the front door of the Stone Hall. A sergeant and a constable entered. Two minutes later another car arrived with two more officers.
If there were any intruders they would soon be sorted out.
"Which area caused the alarm?" asked the sergeant. "The east basement area." I replied.
We all trooped down to this area, unlocking a series of doors on the way. This basement corridor is a lengthy one. Running from the old east wing, through the newer Robert Adam main building and ending at the home of the Haddingtons in the west wing. Probably about 300 feet or more long, with various rooms on the south side and stairways on the north side leading up to the ground floor.
Everything was securely locked still. All doors and windows intact down here; better just check the ground floor though. It took about twenty minutes before we were confident that it was sweet F.A. - or a not so welcome False Alarm.
What caused it? Who could say. These things happen the sergeant said. That may be so I thought but it's not something I relished.
We were retracing our steps through the basement corridor, locking doors on the way, when something flashed by our heads. Then another!
"Bats!" yelled a policeman. "You've got bats in the basement!"
Well I never! I'd heard of bats in the belfry, but bats in the basement? Yoiks!
"That's probably your problem." said sergeant policeman. "They can be a bit of a menace when it comes to these sensitive movement sensors. You need to get the Chubb security engineer to see if he can do something about it."
Next day I rang the security company and the engineer arrived that afternoon. He said that this had happened now and again. "We've adjusted the sensitivity as much as we dare. We cannot decrease it further I'm afraid."
Not a happy outcome as far as I was concerned. Bats are a protected species in the UK and must not be removed or disturbed, even if you found where they were hiding. It seemed that I'd just have to live with the problem, but I wasn't too keen on that.
The security engineer explained that a bat flying close to the sensor could set the alarm off, as we'd just experienced. He then came up with a possible solution: fit a second sensor, close to the original one, programmed in such a way as to only set off the alarm if both sensors were activated simultaneously.
This would not guarantee a solution but it would certainly go a long way to curing the problem of false alarms in this area. A bat passing close to one of the sensors would not start the alarm; it would need two bats to simultaneously trigger each sensor and this was pretty unlikely. However, if a person was in the area then this would definitely trigger both sensors immediately.
After discussing this with the factor it was agreed that additional sensors would be worthwhile. This made me a lot happier! No doubt it would also make the police a lot happier. So it was quickly carried out and hopefully my sleep would not be disturbed too much in future.
A few days later, as I was locking up in the basement area, I noticed something like a large leaf on the floor. On closer inspection, as I went to pick it up, I saw it was, yes, a bat. It wasn't moving; I thought it must be dead. Bats don't usually go to sleep on the floor, do they?
I went upstairs and put on a pair of gardening gloves. Down to the basement and the bat was still lying there. Gently pick it up. It moved slightly. Took it into the east courtyard carefully placed it on the side of an old stone wall. It didn't fall off; it just seemed to cling there. I left it to its fate. No doubt there were other bats in the vicinity and hopefully it would survive.
I wondered what further discoveries would come my way in this lovely old place.
Saturday, 11 July 2009
A Rude Awakening
Slept soundly on our first night in Mellerstain. Strong blustery winds blitzed riotously through the plentiful trees but it actually seemed to lull me to sleep.
The Pickfords van arrived at 9.30 next morning and the unloading of our stuff began. It was not a simple operation! The entrance to our first floor quarters was via a stone spiral staircase. This east wing was built by William Adam, father of Robert Adam, in 1725. The ancient stone spiral was well worn. Each step was concave in the centre eroded by hundreds of shoes traipsing up and down over the centuries.
Romantic it may be, but strenuously difficult for the removal men to negotiate. Heavy work and not something I'd enjoy doing day after day. They completed their task efficiently and without mishap, either to our furniture or the building!
With bags of space in the flat we were soon sorted out. There is a large living room in the centre of the flat, about 24 feet long by 16 feet wide. We never used this room! The grandkids would have it as their playroom when they came to stay later on. We chose a cosier sitting room, about 17 x 18 feet. This had a lovely fireplace as well as oil-fired central heating. The kitchen/diner was a very good size too.
The main bedroom had all the necessary alarm sounders installed, intruder and separate fire systems. All of the bedrooms had handbasins with hot and cold water.
Lovely views from each window - so waking up to see such abundant beauty was a totally new experience for both of us.
So far, so good. The Countess, Lady Jane Haddington, came to introduce herself that first afternoon. She insisted that we had dinner with them in the west wing later on which we gladly accepted. She is a genuinely kind spirit; a hard working mother of three children too.
Dinner was great, and a couple of glasses of wine made it perfect. We made our way back to the east wing, tired but very pleased with life.
Soon we were in bed. I was fast asleep almost immediately.
I got up at 3.30 a.m. Not by choice, but by the wailing and shrieking of an alarm! It was excruciatingly loud. I didn't know if it was the fire alarm or the intruder alarm. I felt a bit like corporal Jones in Dad's Army: "Don't panic..don't panic".
Dressing gown on I found the control panels: it was the intruder alarm! Then the phone rang; it was the police. "Your alarm has been triggered" the police kindly informed me - as if I didn't know! "Officers are on their way - please wait until you see their headlights. OK?"
OK it was. But I wondered whether it was really OK...
The Pickfords van arrived at 9.30 next morning and the unloading of our stuff began. It was not a simple operation! The entrance to our first floor quarters was via a stone spiral staircase. This east wing was built by William Adam, father of Robert Adam, in 1725. The ancient stone spiral was well worn. Each step was concave in the centre eroded by hundreds of shoes traipsing up and down over the centuries.
Romantic it may be, but strenuously difficult for the removal men to negotiate. Heavy work and not something I'd enjoy doing day after day. They completed their task efficiently and without mishap, either to our furniture or the building!
With bags of space in the flat we were soon sorted out. There is a large living room in the centre of the flat, about 24 feet long by 16 feet wide. We never used this room! The grandkids would have it as their playroom when they came to stay later on. We chose a cosier sitting room, about 17 x 18 feet. This had a lovely fireplace as well as oil-fired central heating. The kitchen/diner was a very good size too.
The main bedroom had all the necessary alarm sounders installed, intruder and separate fire systems. All of the bedrooms had handbasins with hot and cold water.
Lovely views from each window - so waking up to see such abundant beauty was a totally new experience for both of us.
So far, so good. The Countess, Lady Jane Haddington, came to introduce herself that first afternoon. She insisted that we had dinner with them in the west wing later on which we gladly accepted. She is a genuinely kind spirit; a hard working mother of three children too.
Dinner was great, and a couple of glasses of wine made it perfect. We made our way back to the east wing, tired but very pleased with life.
Soon we were in bed. I was fast asleep almost immediately.
I got up at 3.30 a.m. Not by choice, but by the wailing and shrieking of an alarm! It was excruciatingly loud. I didn't know if it was the fire alarm or the intruder alarm. I felt a bit like corporal Jones in Dad's Army: "Don't panic..don't panic".
Dressing gown on I found the control panels: it was the intruder alarm! Then the phone rang; it was the police. "Your alarm has been triggered" the police kindly informed me - as if I didn't know! "Officers are on their way - please wait until you see their headlights. OK?"
OK it was. But I wondered whether it was really OK...
Thursday, 9 July 2009
An Englishman’s Home in a Scottish Castle
October 1995 and we are off to a new life in the Scottish Borders. Everything’s ready for the journey; the Pickford’s Removals van has just set off for the journey northwards with our home packed in it. The furniture will be unloaded the next morning as it will be too late for the same day delivery of course.
The plan is to drive to Mellerstain House and hopefully arrive there before 10 p.m. It will be dark when we arrive and we are not overly familiar with the roads, even in the daylight! Fingers crossed.
The head gardener, Gordon Low, has agreed to wait for us to arrive and to guide us into Mellerstain House. I just hope he hasn’t forgotten!
Our route was along the A1 until we reached the branch road A68. It was dusk by the time we turned left onto this road. Perhaps we should have stayed on the A1 for many miles more, passing Newcastle and other towns. However, the map showed that the A68 cut across country and looked to be the shorter route.
The A68 is not a road I would recommend, especially for night driving. It is like a never-ending roller-coaster. Twists and turns, rolling countryside, hidden dips and pitch black! Even if one knew this road intimately it is still very daunting to negotiate at night.
We stopped twice on this road. I was feeling tired and stressed and my eyes just wanted to close. A ten minute rest, Pat having a coffee from the flask and me having a brief shut-eye.
Eventually we reached Jedburgh, the first Scottish town on this road. From there we travelled on until the town of Earlston. Here we turned right, into the town; we were just five miles from Mellerstain.
Gordon Low was waiting for us in his cottage, as previously arranged. It was just before 10 p.m. We met his wife who made us a cup of tea which we were glad of. Gordon had a large torch which he brought with him in our car and we made our way to the east wing, our new home. It was quite scary. It was so very dark and the wind in the trees made a whooshing ghostly noise.
He had a bunch of keys and opened the door of the wing. Our route inside the mansion house had been isolated from the alarm system but even so I tended to flinch as little red lights started to flash as we went through a very long basement corridor. Gordon explained the system just enough for me to re-set the alarm. He showed us how to get into our new flat and finalise the setting of the system and then he left, walking home to his cottage about half a mile away.
There were two camp beds in one of the ten rooms. These had been set up for our night’s sleep. There was no other furniture at all, apart from carpets. It was good to have a sleep at last. It would be another busy day tomorrow.
The plan is to drive to Mellerstain House and hopefully arrive there before 10 p.m. It will be dark when we arrive and we are not overly familiar with the roads, even in the daylight! Fingers crossed.
The head gardener, Gordon Low, has agreed to wait for us to arrive and to guide us into Mellerstain House. I just hope he hasn’t forgotten!
Our route was along the A1 until we reached the branch road A68. It was dusk by the time we turned left onto this road. Perhaps we should have stayed on the A1 for many miles more, passing Newcastle and other towns. However, the map showed that the A68 cut across country and looked to be the shorter route.
The A68 is not a road I would recommend, especially for night driving. It is like a never-ending roller-coaster. Twists and turns, rolling countryside, hidden dips and pitch black! Even if one knew this road intimately it is still very daunting to negotiate at night.
We stopped twice on this road. I was feeling tired and stressed and my eyes just wanted to close. A ten minute rest, Pat having a coffee from the flask and me having a brief shut-eye.
Eventually we reached Jedburgh, the first Scottish town on this road. From there we travelled on until the town of Earlston. Here we turned right, into the town; we were just five miles from Mellerstain.
Gordon Low was waiting for us in his cottage, as previously arranged. It was just before 10 p.m. We met his wife who made us a cup of tea which we were glad of. Gordon had a large torch which he brought with him in our car and we made our way to the east wing, our new home. It was quite scary. It was so very dark and the wind in the trees made a whooshing ghostly noise.
He had a bunch of keys and opened the door of the wing. Our route inside the mansion house had been isolated from the alarm system but even so I tended to flinch as little red lights started to flash as we went through a very long basement corridor. Gordon explained the system just enough for me to re-set the alarm. He showed us how to get into our new flat and finalise the setting of the system and then he left, walking home to his cottage about half a mile away.
There were two camp beds in one of the ten rooms. These had been set up for our night’s sleep. There was no other furniture at all, apart from carpets. It was good to have a sleep at last. It would be another busy day tomorrow.
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
Lording it up
Interview over. We left the curator's office in the east wing of Mellerstain and entered the east courtyard. The tea-room was open; we went in and had a coffee. It would take us almost three hours to drive back to Lincolnshire and I was in no hurry to set off.
We were just about to leave the tea-room for a stroll around the gardens when the factor came in. "Oh, so glad I caught you before you go; we haven't paid your travelling expenses. How much are they?"
I hadn't considered it. Nobody had said we would be re-imbursed. "I don't really know ... " I replied.
"Well, here's £50 for petrol. Should cover it don't you think?" said the factor, handing me five ten pound Scottish notes. "If it's any more just let the curator know before you leave. Oh, and by the way, Lord Haddington says that if you want the position it's yours!"
I was so surprised. Totally unexpected to be offered the job in this manner.
"Well yes" I replied, after recovering my speech. "Yes, we'd certainly love to take the job."
"When could you start?" asked the factor. "The present chap and his wife will be retiring in September, when the visitor season is finished for the year. October would be a good time for us.." he went on.
"And for us too!" I replied.
So that was it. It would be a hectic two months or so before we took up our new life in Scotland but we were certainly up for it.
We drove back home; a home that would soon be history. It was almost dreamlike. Everything was happening so speedily and yet so smoothly. Yet it was all real. Not a dream at all but something I'd often dreamed of was actually happening...
We were just about to leave the tea-room for a stroll around the gardens when the factor came in. "Oh, so glad I caught you before you go; we haven't paid your travelling expenses. How much are they?"
I hadn't considered it. Nobody had said we would be re-imbursed. "I don't really know ... " I replied.
"Well, here's £50 for petrol. Should cover it don't you think?" said the factor, handing me five ten pound Scottish notes. "If it's any more just let the curator know before you leave. Oh, and by the way, Lord Haddington says that if you want the position it's yours!"
I was so surprised. Totally unexpected to be offered the job in this manner.
"Well yes" I replied, after recovering my speech. "Yes, we'd certainly love to take the job."
"When could you start?" asked the factor. "The present chap and his wife will be retiring in September, when the visitor season is finished for the year. October would be a good time for us.." he went on.
"And for us too!" I replied.
So that was it. It would be a hectic two months or so before we took up our new life in Scotland but we were certainly up for it.
We drove back home; a home that would soon be history. It was almost dreamlike. Everything was happening so speedily and yet so smoothly. Yet it was all real. Not a dream at all but something I'd often dreamed of was actually happening...
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