To pursue Sir Walter Scott's stories of the reign of James VI and I - his stories tell more about the stote of the nation than most history books because they deal with people - here is another sample :-

"We have before mentioned, that in those wild days the very children had their deadly feuds, carried weapons, and followed the bloody example of their fathers. ... in September 1595. The scholars of the High School of Edinburgh, having a dispute with their masters about the length of their holidays, resolved to stand out for a longer vacation. Accordingly, they took possession of the school in that most mutinous manner, which in England is known as 'barring out', and resisted the admission of the masters. Such foolish things have often occurred in public schools elsewhere; but what was peculiar to the High School boys of Edinburgh was, that they defended the school with sword and pistol, and when Bailie MacMorrran, one of the magistrates, gave direction to force the entrance, three of the boys fired, and killed him on the spot.There were none of them punished, because it was alleged that it could not be known which of them did the deed; but rather because two of them were gentleman's sons. 

There's not much mileage in that for even a short story  but using it as background can add authenticity to a longer tale, especially if the magistrates son takes revenge on all three of the shooters and provides a serial killer story. What makes that possible is the detail Scott provides.

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Thanks to Robert Burns and Walter Scott, writers are highly regarded in Scotland so, many years ago, almost, Once upon a time, Sandy Russel, editor of the Scotsman, went on holiday in the Highlands and, of course, attended Kirk on Sunday but went fishing on Monday. When the minister heard who his visitor had been he went in search of him and found him fishing. 'I am a fisher too,' the minister told Russel, 'but a fisher of men.' 

'Oh, aye,' Russel answered. I had a look in your kreel yesterday and you didn't seem to have caught much.' 

This is not a Walter Scott or a Cairndhu story but it could easily have been either and there is a fine river flows through the valley in which Cairndhu rests. So far I haven't let Broon or Jinks go near it.

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At the time the Stuarts were on the throne and fighting with Cromwell a man from Cairndhu was talked into joining the King's side. It was fine marching with the drum but when the fighting started, Jock walked away. He was stopped by the colonel. 'Where do you think you're going?' the colonel asked.
'I'm away home,' was the reply. 'Can ye no' see they're killing one another down there.'

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Keep the peace the Daltons are here

I should really be doing more about 1820 but I'm going to take a breather and think about the next project. I enjoy the village stories in Oakhaven and Cairndhu but need to do a rewrite to get them to flow more easily. I want to do them in short story form so that people can read them on the way to work or listen to them in the car. Something that a retired person can read for half an hour just before putting the light out. I'm drawn to the idea because I so enjoyed the Para Handy and his puffer, the Vital Spark, stories of Neil Munro. You get to know the characters and enjoy half an hour in their company. I think I can do the same with Broon and Jinks and Miss Kirkhope, characters from Best in Show set in Cairndhu. I've written two but they need a bot of work.
What has caused this turn of thought is this latest set of riots and demonstrations which will end up like the 1820 insurrection with a clamp down by those entrusted with keeping the peace. For some reason people are reluctant to accept that the police are a mixture of ordinary people like the rest of us, some lazy and some over zealous but all human and likely to make mistakes. It's the same with doctors, they've read more pages of the medical journal than the rest of us but the journal deals with a kind of average metabolism and none of us is 'average' and might not be in the journal at all. It's this need to find a culprit that is frustrating - I am perfect so it must be someone else's fault is the rule. One of the things I enjoy about being a story teller is that it's always the bad guys fault and I can make sure the goodies win.

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A letter for Broon

Jinks, the postman, came with a letter from Cluggie, the village next door. They want to have a meeting about the flower show next year. I didn't want to get involved but you ken what Miss Kirkwood is like, as soon as she heard, and I expect Jinks would tell her, she tackled me in the street. 'John,' she told me. 'It's your duty to see that they do not take over our show in Cairndhu. They want to change the name of the village from Cuggie to Dalriada to reflect the quality of the houses there. They didn't have the nerve to say the quality of the people there, but that's what they meant.'
'Miss Kirkwood, I've got this new market garden business to see to and my work at the mine as well as makin' sure Gillespie doesna win the show. I don't have time to go gallavantin' and talkin' to folk like that Cluggie crowd.'
'John Brown, you will not side step your obligations. It was you who first talked to them about this idea of a joint show.'
'There's others better able to talk to them than me, Miss Kirkwood.'
'No there is not, John. You have been hiding from responsibility too long. If you wish I will get Farquhar to accompany you.'
I could see there was no point in arguing so I've written to them at Cluggie, after all, that's the official address and we'll see what happens next.

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Best in Show again

I've just come back from the village flower show. The storm of wind and rain in the week of the show had played havoc with any flowers growing out of doors so it wasn't just its usual standard but as in the fictional village of Cairndhu, it did its best. When I arrived, my friend explained he had looked round his garden and didn't think there was anything worth exhibiting but he'd look again in the morning before the show. As usual one of his entries got a first prize in its category. There were one or two miscarriages of justice but on the whole the judging was fair, nobody bribing the judges with fillet steaks and legs of lamb like Gillespie in Cairndhu. Over the years the number of cups and trophies has ballooned and it takes a good half hour to hand out all the silver-wear despite it being only a village affair. An innovation since I was a lad is the scarecrows; the favourite last year was Donald Trump but, being SNP country, this year Boris Johnson was the scary man. There were one or two amusing ones and I've added one to the images at the bottom. If the flowers were not quite up to standard, the vegetables were with some enormous leeks and huge cabbages and they are also displayed underneath. I can't shut down without mentioning the lunch which always drives me mad because I have to chose from so many delicious dishes.
In Best in Show, I tried to capture the atmosphere of a village and some of the characters I knew as a boy but a village is a living thing and all I could do was show what it was like in the fifties. I grew up among the mines, so I made Cairdhu a mining village but I'm sure there were and still are non-mining villages with similar characters.
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Jinks brings a letter

I've started to lay out the follow on from Best in Show in Cairndhu. The opening comes with Broon making his way home from work and meeting Jinks, the postman. Jinks gives Broon a letter which he says comes from Dalriada.
'Dalriady?' Broon exclaims, where the Hell's that?'
'No Dalriady, Dalriada, it was spelt oot for me. It seems they don't like their place bein' camed Cluggy.'
'It's been Cluggy since ever I kenned.'
Broon goes on and is met by a bee-keeper who wants to know if he can put his bees on the bramble bushes at Broon's new market garden.
Broon goes home, opend the letter and finds the Dalriada people want a meeting to discuss the next years flower show, which will have two classes, the local Cairndhu, and a special class to include the villages round about. He tells Maisie, his wife, that things are getting out of hand. Maisie naturally suggests a session with Miss Kirkwood to sort things out and Miss K insists Broon write back to Cluggy arranging a meeting.
Broon resists but Miss K was his teacher and he is forced to give in.
I tried several other openings but none of them got into the action like this one.So far, I've introduced five characters, which I feel is enough to be going on with. The next will be Broon's daughter Ger and the rivals for her hand, Calum Gillespie, the butcher's son and young Lindsay, the farmer's son.
I enjoy writing about these people. Their problems are not saving the universe but in the village context they are major.

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