The Coach Trip (Part 2)

The hotel is owned by the coach company and set up to cope with oldies. We all go in to eat at certain times according to the bus we came on, and sit in the same seats. The staff are all young and foreign and quite delightful, serving us quickly and efficiently with our meals. They are also trained to spot anomalies. One guy, travelling alone and obviously with chronic illness, didn’t appear for a meal and the staff reported this and the receptionist phoned his room to check on him. Fortunately he was just tired and not hungry. His table was right next to us and he was sitting beside a couple who neither spoke to each other or to him throughout all our meals. I wouldn’t have wanted to join them for such meals either.

The hotel at Loch Tummel

Every day we climbed on our bus, Donnie the driver, head counting us to make sure he had the right number, and more importantly, the right people. One or two wandered on to our bus by mistake and had to be gently pointed in the right direction of their transport.

Donnie’s big bus

Donnie knew every single-track road in the area. It was wicked fun to watch the expressions of the drivers who met our large, far too broad bus for the road, on a bend and had to stop suddenly and squeeze past while we sat aloof and rather smug.

We travelled to various tourist places each day and were ejected from the bus to explore for a few hours. Pitlochry was an interesting stop with the dam and salmon leap close by. However the salmon weren’t leaping, it not being the time of year so we adjourned to the visitor centre set high above the dam and with magnificent views from the cafeteria. There is also an exhibition area explaining how the dam was built and how it works to provide hydroelectric power with interactive models so you can produce your own power or make recalcitrant wooden salmon leap upstream.

Pitlochry Dam

It was raining in Aberfeldy so we nipped into an unusual shop run by an Irish artist, Ryan Hannigan. He has some old printing presses in the shop that he uses to print his own designs. He is also a musician (you can buy his CD or vinyl there too) and he recycles old uniforms and army gear into stylish clothing for sale.

The site of the battle of Culloden meant an early start but well worth it. The story of Bonnie Prince Charlie and his epic attempt to wrest the throne from the English is vividly told in the visitor centre and you can experience the sights and sounds of the terrible fight all around you. Then to the battlefield itself with flags marking where the Jacobites stood against their enemy in a desperate attempt to halt the retreat.

A gravestone at Culloden

After all that blood and guts it was a peaceful afternoon in Aviemore where Sheila met us and took us to her new home and lunch.

It was a quick few days and on the way home, Donnie stopped in Callander to allow us to browse through all the wee artisan craft shops, a perfect way to spend a wet afternoon.

It was an easy experience of a holiday. No hassle, food, accommodation and trips all organised and running smoothly. Even the weather was kind on the whole. We were taken care of and driven about very comfortably. I saw parts of Scotland I’d never visited and others I hadn’t seen for a very long time. 

Rain and Royalty

I received this invitation through the post:

Before Covid struck, Ayr Writers Club (one of the biggest and most successful in Scotland) celebrated its 50th anniversary by nominating Sheila and I (both honorary Life members and Presidents many times over) to attend the Holyrood Garden party.

But it wasn’t to be; Covid meant the garden party was cancelled in previous years and we thought our chance had gone. Until the invitations were delivered.

So Sheila and I dressed up in our posh frocks and fascinators as per instructions from the Palace, checked we had our photo ID and invitation, and set off for Edinburgh. The heavens opened and all the rain we had been hoping for during that long hot spell decided to fall. And it didn’t stop. By the time we had trudged across the grass outside the Palace, queued up to get in and made our way to a marquee for shelter, we were soaked.

Fortunately, hot tea and goodies were on offer. We had been warned to expect tiny cucumber sandwiches but no, there was a magnificent spread of sandwiches, cakes and scones.  We tucked in as did the other 5,998 guests. Everyone was crowded in under the tents to keep out of the lashing rain, occasionally putting up a brolly and dashing over to another marquee. There we all were, dressed in our finery by now pretty damp, as the temperature plummeted and the rain continued to fall. 

The royal party weren’t due to arrive till 4.30 so we tried to keep warm by going for wee walks around the central area. We were just standing, wondering what to do next, when one of the Royal Company of Archers approached us to ask how we were doing and what we were representing. Being a bit of a double act, we told him all about Ayr Writers Club and what we wrote, so out came his notebook and he jotted down our names and other details.

‘Wait there!’ he ordered. ‘Don’t move!” And off he dashed.

A few moments  later, he was back to arrange us into a rough line and instructions to give a bob when royalty approached. And there she was, Princess Anne. Much smaller than expected but warmly dressed and carrying a large umbrella.

‘Hello, nice to meet you,’ says I shaking her hand and completely forgetting to bob. We told her about the 50th celebrations of the club and how our invitation had had to be postponed because of Covid. She was very easy to talk to and she said she knew Kilmarnock, where Sheila had lived until recently, as she’d competed in horse trials there. We had quite a long chat before she had to move on to the next couple. We were delighted at being picked to speak to her and celebrated by having another round of tea and cakes, the rain and cold all but forgotten.

By the time the Royals had returned inside the palace, we were even wetter and chilled to the bone, my ivory sling back shoes were sodden and covered in grass and our fascinators had been bent out of shape by the numerous umbrellas swiping at them. 

But we had had a wonderful time and a day to remember. 

The Coach Trip (Part 1)

I’d just finished reading The Coach Trip by Izzy Bromley aka Imogen Clark when a friend asked if I would like to go with her on – a coach trip! Me? A coach trip along with a bunch of oldies? Except – I am an oldie now.

So in the spirit of adventure or at least, trying something different I agreed. It was only four days and we would stay at an hotel and travel around every day and return to it for dinner and bed. So I wouldn’t have to unpack and repack and breakfast and dinner were included. My first mistake was not putting the label supplied on my case. “There’s always one,” moaned Donnie the driver, as we set off on a mini tour of central Scotland picking up other adventurers. Eventually we were all accounted for except for one poor soul that Donnie hadn’t been told about and was left languishing on a pavement until the company sent a taxi to pick him up and chase after us to Perth. We crossed the Forth Road bridge on our way, the three bridges looking glorious from the coach window.

The First Forth Bridge

We didn’t see the best of Perth as the road beside the river was closed so we wandered round the shops, had lunch and dithered until it was time to get back on the bus. Donnie stopped at the Queen’s View overlooking Loch Tummel before heading for the hotel situated on its banks. There is nothing more beautiful than Scotland in the sunshine and no wonder Queen Victoria like it so much. Mind you, it must have been a fair trek by carriage to get there. Or had steam trains reached there by then?

The Queen’s View at Loch Tummel

We settled into our rooms and headed out to grab a seat along the shore of Loch Tummel at the edge of the lawn. We had packed some cocktails and with it being so hot, we had to knock back several before dinner.

And at dinner, we had classic peach melba with tinned peaches! I have a story in my collection, Take a Leaf out of My Book, entitled Peach Melba, about four old dears who escape from a care home and have a meal out with peach melba as dessert. Was I turning into one of them?

Getting the Old Brain into Gear again!

I’ve been writing again! The incentive was the Scottish Association of Writers conference programme setting out all the competitions to enter if you attended. So step 1, I booked my place for the 2023 conference in March and step 2, began writing. I won’t say what I wrote and in what categories I submitted (ok some are old efforts freshened up and edited) as it’s all anonymous and we won’t hear the results until the actual conference.

Not only has it got me back writing, but I’m looking forward to meeting up with friends I haven’t seen in ages and wondering if the room parties are still part of the weekend. How many folk can you squeeze into a bedroom? And how many bottles and packets of crisps can be consumed? And that’s on top of packing away glorious meals three times a day along with elevenses and afternoon tea.

And then there’s the talks and the discussions and the workshops! A stupendous few days which set you up for the rest of the year.

I’ve also got myself a wee job as a researcher for the Dementia Friendly podcast project at the Festival Theatre in Edinburgh. I interview various people who work in the theatre or who are associated with the DementiArts programme. I summarise it and hand it to Willy, the podcast presenter who uses it to conduct a recorded interview with them for the podcast. You can listen to the first one using the above link.

I also write a column for the DementiArts magazine that the theatre brings out. It’s called Hidden Lives and I tell the stories of people living with dementia and what surprising and wonderful stories they are.

I’ve also booked a place with a conference on How to Get Published run by the Writers and Artists along with the Open University in Edinburgh in March. Another chance to pick up tips and ideas as well as doing a bit of networking.

And if all that doesn’t get me started, then I’ll give up!

Beginning the Journey Back

It’s been almost two years since I last wrote for this blog, in fact wrote anything at all. A stretch of time which was taken up with caring for a dear loved one until the end. But now I’m beginning another part of my life and gradually, oh, so gradually, I’m starting to write again, not long involved pieces but short articles for various newsletters on a subject I learned a lot about over the past two years – dementia.

This terrible, incurable illness is no respecter of persons, waiting generally until old age before visibly striking. But over many previous years it has been insidiously creeping through brain cells and destroying them. Looking back, I can see many tiny signs that we missed, symptoms that we dismissed as one offs, as typical of the ageing process and pushed aside. Not that anything much could have been done as like many neurological diseases, dementia in all its forms is incurable. It is terminal.

Depending on your “luck” you can have it for many years, or it can rampage through the body in no time at all. We weren’t lucky. Our form of dementia took only three years from first diagnosis until death.

But dementia has also given me a way back into writing. Capital Theatres in Edinburgh have a dementia programme, ensuring that their premises and performances are as dementia friendly as possible, and publish a dementiArts newsletter 4 times a year. I have been writing a column, Hidden Lives, about the previous lives of those now living with dementia: a musician, a potter, a marathon runner, an acrobat, an inventor – all sorts of people with amazing and fascinating stories to tell of what they’ve done and been.

I’m also still very much involved in our local dementia group and write about our activities and outings. Life doesn’t stop because you have dementia – you only need to read Wendy Mitchell‘s blog to realise that!

So back to the keyboard and get busy! I wonder if the past two years have enabled my writing brain to lie fallow, to take a break and let what happened percolate through my mind to emerge at some later date as a rich harvest of subject matter – if that’s not mixing metaphors, overwriting and generally producing purple prose!

How have you managed to put your life together again after a loss, an illness, a change of circumstances?

Where Have I Been and Where Has the Time Gone?

It’s been ages since I wrote a blog, the beginning of July in fact, and here we are almost at the end of September. Under the coronavirus restrictions, life seems to fly by and most days follow the same pattern. So before you know it, almost three months has passed without a cheep out of me.

So what has been happening? The most important is the Children in Read auction for Children in Need. Many authors have donated signed copies of their books and the highest bidder will be the lucky recipient of the book of their choice. My light-hearted romance, Festival Fireworks, set in Edinburgh during Festival time is on there and just waiting for bids to come flooding in!

Here’s the link to the whole list of books on offer.

In other, less positive news, the American magazine, The Highlander, for which I have been writing historical articles, has been sold to a UK publisher. Unfortunately, it already has a magazine about Scotland and it has merged The Highlander with it to produce something which bears no resemblance to the original. I wonder what the US subscribers will make of it. As for us writers, none of us have heard what the new editor is looking for and whether she will want to use any of our articles.

One of the new things I am learning during lockdown is various systems of talking to people like WhatsApp, FaceTime, Jitsi and now Zoom. I logged on to the Society of Authors in Scotland’s AGM on Zoom and it was good too see so many weel-kent faces though nothing like actually meeting them in the flesh. But I think that’s still a long way off.

There was a reason for trying out Zoom – next month I am doing a Zoom talk along with my co-president and dear friend, Sheila, for Ayr Writers’ club as part of their 50th anniversary celebrations. We are going to be reminiscing about the club and how we became writers through its help and support. There will be one or two laughs as well, hopefully, as we recall memorable moments from our long association with the club.

A Coronavirus Birthday

By now about a third of the population will have had a birthday under lockdown and it was my turn at the weekend. I wondered how it would go and in the event, it went very well with flowers and food and plenty of chat. In fact, there was a simultaneous rendition of Happy Birthday from London and Toronto which was almost in unison!

birthday 2020

On top of everything else, what should thump through the letterbox but the latest edition of the Highlander magazine, containing not one but two of my articles, along with articles by a couple of my writer friends, Rosemary Gemmell and Anne-Mary Paterson.

cover

My articles were on two local subjects, Cockenzie House and Tantallon Castle, both of which we had visited before lockdown.

cockenzie p1  Tantallon

Also in the mail was a cheque for another of my articles on the history of knitting in Scotland which will appear in a later issue. This was a fascinating topic to research, initially triggered by Rosie Thorpe, an archivist with Historic Environment Scotland,who, on taking up knitting during lockdown, decided to see what her archives held on the subject. My own searches uncovered a murder and two hangings associated with knitting – who knew it was such a bloodthirsty subject!

I’ve also had a blog tour for Festival Fireworks which I just may have mentioned previously! I’d never had one before so it was quite a learning curve for me but very enjoyable. Thanks to Kelly Lacey for organising it all.

Festival Fireworkds

First Review of My Blog Tour

Festival Fireworks is off to a great start with this review from Bookbustle!

 

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Festival Fireworks by Ann Burnett @lovebookstours . . Blurb: Aussie Jill arrives in Edinburgh at Festival time, at the start of a gap year. Unfortunately, her boss at the temporary job she's taken turns out to be her grumpy neighbour, Andrew, aka Mr Bossy. As the Festival fireworks explode over the city every night, they start to fall in love. Then Jill has to return suddenly to Australia. Can their budding romance survive or will the fireworks fizzle and die? . . My Review: Festival Fireworks is a super cute novel, following Jill and Aussie visiting Edinburgh, and Andrew, a well connected socialite. Jill is staying at her Aunt's flat and has a chance encounter with Andrew who lives across the hall. Through a series of interesting circumstances, Jill and Andrew end up working together planning events and the annual Festival. This is a feel good romance novel that will warm your heart and leave you with a fuzzy feeling! The characters are well written and the setting of Edinburgh is perfect for this romance! Fans of romantic comedies and clean romance novels will thoroughly enjoy this novel! The plot was well written, with plenty of frustration and pining on the parts of Jill and Andrew. Lots of conflict, but it's well written into the plot and drives the story forward in a believable way. Overall, this is a well written romance by a skilled author! I enjoyed the characters, their backstories and motivations, and the beautiful setting of Edinburgh. I've always wanted to travel there and it made a wonderful backdrop for this story! Thank you to Ann Burnett for writing this book and to Love Books Tours for having me on this tour! . . #booktour #lovebookstours #festivalfireworks #cleanromance #contemporaryromance #bookreview #bookbustle #bookblog #booksofig #bookstragram #ereader #bookish #cuteromance #edinburgh #highlands

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A Wee Something to Wet Your Thrapple*

* to wet your thrapple – to have a taste of something

An extract from Festival Fireworks before the blog tour which starts next week:

Andrew turned to her and took hold of her hands.

‘I want to thank you for arranging an absolutely fabulous party and to apologise for my bad-temper, my bad behaviour, and anything else bad about me that you don’t like.’

Jill stared at him, open-mouthed. He was apologising to her? Mr. Bossy Big-boots was actually saying sorry? 

He must have seen her shock. ‘I really do mean it. It was one of the best parties we’ve ever had, and there were some interesting and hopefully lucrative contacts made. Some people will owe you a great vote of thanks.’

Jill nodded, still shocked. ‘Sam,’ she said. ‘He said he might get a contract from tonight.’

‘Exactly. And it’s all thanks to you.’ 

‘Not entirely. You made up the guest list, I just did what you asked. Well, after a fashion,’ she added, remembering the fiasco about the venue.

‘But the party wouldn’t have been so relaxed, and people wouldn’t have mixed so well if we’d had it where you booked it originally.’

‘Then, thank your neighbours. They really got things going.’

Andrew smiled at her. ‘You’re determined not to take any credit for it, are you? But I’m thanking you… like this.’

He pulled her towards him and bent his mouth to hers. Jill closed her eyes as his lips met hers. They were warm and sweet tasting, soft and tender, and kissed just the way she liked being kissed. She sighed gently and let herself draw even closer into his arms. Their kiss deepened, their mouths opened to each other, their bodies fitted themselves into each other, adjusting till closeness and warmth were satisfied. Heaven could not be any more perfect. 

Their lips parted, their eyes opened, and they looked at each other in a new way; a new recognition taking over from the old. Mr. Bossy was gone, Mr. MacCallum-Blair was gone, only Andrew was left. Her Andrew. Jill smiled up at him and moved to kiss him again.

A loud buzz sounded.

Andrew drew apart from her. ‘Who can be wanting in at this time of the night?’ he said. He walked into the hall, flipped the switch on the entry phone, and said sharply, ‘Yes?’ into the speaker. 

‘Police,’ came the tinny reply.

Festival Fireworkds