Sir when you have seen one green field you have seen all green fields. Let us walk down Cheapside
Samuel Johnson
I am quite glad to be out of the house (even if it is one of the most sought after in Glasgow) as Mrs Travers, our daily woman what does, but not a lot, is unpacking the winter woollies from the trunk in the attic. Despite the fact it is a little chilly in the mornings, it is a bright enough day and she will hopefully rinse my twinsets through and they will get a little blow on the line. I always insist on woollens being stored for summer in newspaper as the moths do not like the print, particularly on papers such as The Daily Record and Manchester Guardian. Fortunately my cashmere is folded into the Court and Social pages of The Daily Telegraph.
Jasper is rather displeased to discover that his sleeveless Fair Isle has been devoured by the wretched things, but “what can you expect Dahling?! I said. “You did after all put it between articles on the Labour Party Conference and the Aldermaston March”. To be honest I am quite glad, as it rather made him look as if he worked in a Co-op warehouse. For peace and a quiet life I have shared his grief and suggested he go into Rowans to see if he can get a replacement. He cannot as I have already telephoned the manger, but rest assured I shall share his disappointment.
Jasper had planned to go to the Stirling Library and as he had reserved books to collect, I volunteered to come instead while he was in search of a new slipover. It seems the books have not yet arrived as they are coming from another branch. I have already told the librarian that this is most inefficient and further “I trust that these books are not coming from a branch with a large number of council houses.” The librarian assured me that as far as she knew the van was coming from Giffnock. Now this is on the south side so from where I am sitting I shall be able to see that when the boxes are unpacked she wipes the covers with mentholated spirits.
In truth I am not very fond of library books, particularly since Mrs Travers found a slice of spam being used as a bookmark in Mazo de la Roche’s Return to Jalna. So goodness knows how long I am going to be sitting her between that man in the raincoat who I am sure is reading Moll Flanders and the woman working her way through a Glasgow Post Office Street Directory for 1897.
Just as well I brought my correspondence to glance through although I left a letter from America for later so that Jasper and I can enjoy hearing from our nephew together. If you can just give me a moment I will put down my Mackintosh Square, spray some Arpège and build a barrier with my neighbours using a handbag on one side and Who’s Who on the other. Don’t worry I have gloves on.
It has been interesting over the last couple of weeks to get so many letters from you on the same subject. Having been to Scotland over the summer you are understandably captivated by the green fields, the woodlands and the lakes and mountains. Even those of you who spend most of your time in our own urban areas are falling under the same spell. Thus the cry is the same “Dear Muriel we want to move to the country and have a simply marvellous life like you with the rustics and the soup and sandwich lunches.”
Now while I applaud your desire for change and a simple life of healthy country pursuits I must counsel against rash moves. For one thing I only live in the country at weekends or on holidays; for another being simply marvellous I am hardy and adaptable as well as having a tasteful elegance summed up as je ne sais quois which makes me at one with the countryside or city bustle. Visiting the country is one thing, making the decision to live there permanently is another. You might recall Manet’s comment when writing as Edouard Manet the famous French artist – he said “The Country has charms only for those not obliged to stay there.” You might also have come across Wilde’s plays, these were written by a playwright called Oscar Wilde who on the matter of rural living said “Anybody can be good in the country, there are no temptations there.” Now my Grandmamma knew Oscar Wilde and I can assure you he managed to find temptation in most places but one can nevertheless appreciate the general sentiment and take note. I am, however, not one to rain on a parade so perhaps we might take the following letter as a means of giving some general advice on living in the country for beginners.
Dear Mrs Wylie,
My husband and I are thinking of moving to the country. We visited South West Scotland in August and had a simply marvellous holiday. We are so envious of your life in Shangri-La. Can you please give me your top tips for incomers?
Yours in anticipation
A Lady from London,
Dear Lady from London
Firstly “simply marvellous” is my phrase, so hands off and secondly I would fudge where you come from at least until you have joined the golf club. Actually rather than suggest you come from that London, “I have just been released following the discovery of new evidence at the murder scene” would be a better idea.
Now having made the decision to relocate to the Scottish Countryside and got your story straight here are my top tips for a successful transition.
In the country people get up very early, most of course work on farms so that is understandable. Even if you don’t you would be advised to be up with the lark or as in the case of Louise, from the right side of Carlisle, the cock. Curtains left undrawn after 7 am is a sure sign of moral torpor or urban tendencies. No matter how early you are up and bustling around your front door, for bustle with broom you must, someone will always beat you to it and ledges will be dusted and fallen begonia petals swept up.
Under no circumstances appear in a dressing gown or housecoat or you will be labelled a fallen woman and it is likely you will hear the following “I can’t abide a dressing gown after first light.” This applies at the other end of the day where one is fully dressed until it is “dark proper”. The “grey dark” is no excuse for nightwear. It might suggest you are newlywed or “have not put the dishes past.”
You may recall that during the last Unpleasantness we had a saying “careless talk costs lives”. Now while I am not suggesting that your life might be in danger because of what you say, it might be as well to think that you may well “save face” by not using the bottom half of it. I say this because in the country everyone is related to everyone else. You might not know who your fourth cousin is but they certainly do. They may not even like each other, but that is beside the point; when you criticise one to the other, you will be in the wrong. So one has to become something of a detective or even a genealogist.
Events that are ancient history in the towns are just yesterday in the country. Looking for corroboration of events such as who was involved in breaking the windows of the Italian Café in the last Unpleasantness will be met either with stony silence or “we don’t talk about that.” At the same time you must provide a little harmless gossip for interest and acceptance. This might be about yourself such as “These scars, I would rather not say, but it’s my belief that someone tampered with my parachute” or “Of course we had to leave London after that business with our Rita and Princess Mary.”
Should we join the church is a question I am often asked. Well the fact that you asked at all leads me to wonder about your suitability for country living. Frankly it’s a choice between yes and drinking bleach. The Kirk is not a life choice it’s a way of country life, bight the bullet hand in your lines, buy a fur coat and acquire several looks all of which convey disapproval.
Make sure you put your name down for the flower rota; 52 weeks a year is a lot to fill. Invent a reason as to why you have picked a particular week to disguise the fact it is when flowers are cheapest. It is the anniversary of the day “Grandfather received the royal pardon while waiting in the condemned cell” or “All I can say is that this relative used to have his head on the coins until they stuck it on a pole”.
Cultivating the farming community is a complete waste of time this is one area where you cannot possibly win. They regard all incomers as potential land grabbers, tax inspectors or those who might have relatives who want to camp in their fields and they need every last blade of grass. The one area you can converse about is the weather, but remember what Steinbeck wrote (he was an American author who wrote as John Steinbeck) “….and it never failed that during the dry years the people forgot about the rich years and during the wet years they lost all memory of the dry years. It was always that way.”
‘Always that way’ is a very important notion to hold on to when relocating to the country, in our part of Scotland it is known as “aye bin” such as in “the Mactavishes have aye bin at Dunsmiling Cottage.”
Following on from “aye bin” quite naturally is the subject of politics. In fact this is not a subject as no one would dream you are anything but conservative and Conservative and the overriding political philosophy is that “there shall be no change”. There are exceptions, but these are considered the result of marriage between first cousins and are usually brought back into the fold on election night with a drink and a lift to the polling station.
It is essential to cultivate an interest in gardening. This is highly competitive as you will discover at the annual Fruit Flower and Produce Sale. The need to keep one’s cottage garden spick and span and weed free is encouraged by policies last scene in the Reign of Terror. You might arrive in the village thinking “well I am not going to subject myself to this horticultural fascism,” but all I can say is give it a few months and you will be staking dahlias with the best of them in the certain knowledge that otherwise you may go to the stake yourself.
You must develop an interest in manure and be able to discuss mixing sheep droppings with water in a bucket while eating chocolate chip biscuits without flinching. Enter several sections of the flower show, but under no circumstances win, because the MacTavishes win as it has “aye bin”. In the unlikely event that you do win while accepting the cup donated by a late person, pretend to have a stroke and make arrangements to sell your house. Just look what happened when the usual person did not win the cup in Mrs Miniver – the village was bombed by the Luftwaffe.
Place your newspaper order with the village shop, you may select from The Daily Telegraph, The Scotsman or The Glasgow Herald. At weekends you take the Spectator, The Economist and the Sunday Post for your equivalent of Mrs Travers. Once a month you have the Scottish Field. If you are pretentious or have a relative who was executed within the confines of The Tower of London you take The Field, Horse and Hound and The Lady. Comics are only bought during the holidays if the cleaning lady has to bring her grandchildren and they might put sticky fingers on your washed Chinese. You will be known by the grocer’s staff by what you buy so you might well be “Mrs Woman’s Own with 10 Guards, a box of matches and a half bottle of Dewers blended .” So think very carefully about what you buy.
Baking is the very glue of rural communities. It supports everything and an ability to bake will open many doors to you. The corollary is that if your baking is not up to scratch, you really should consider emigrating to Australia or New Zealand or perhaps even offer to be a guinea pig when the next space rocket is launched. Going to Oxford or Cambridge counts for nothing in the competitive rural world that is sliced cake and tray bakes. A woman lives or dies by the reputation of her cheese scones. Winning best in show for “a tea bread on an invalid tea tray – with decorated tray cloth” is the rural equivalent of the Nobel prize for literature.
I am well aware that you are not necessarily thinking of coming to live in the Scottish Countryside as farmers or even hoary handed sons and daughters of toil. It is important, nevertheless, to take an interest in crops and livestock. As Southwest Scotland has more in the way of pasture than arable you should at least be able to tell the difference between a cow and a sheep and what makes the best carpets not to mention the best accompaniment to mint sauce or red currant jelly. It would be considered most unusual not to have a dog or cat. In fact cats are an essential once autumn comes in as so do the mice. You might consider something scraggy for outside work, but your house cat must be something exotic preferably from Norway or Siam. You will adore it and it will hate all visitors who are equally unsure as to why you are so fond of this haughty looking creature.
Your garden will be full of flowers and birds but an area will be set aside for hens and a pond for ducks. Everyone will tell you they are no trouble. They are indeed a great deal of trouble and one must be prepared to put flea powder on chickens and deal with the aftermath of a fox’s visit. Foxes are loathed as are moles, otters and badgers, and to show any sentiment towards these animals is regarded as evidence of mental instability.
Buy a large stock of ‘In Sympathy’ cards. For some reason people have a tendency to die in the countryside. You will find that you spend an inordinate amount of time at funerals. To have a big funeral is the ambition of every country dweller. It is evidence that you were well loved or at least not found out. It is essential to have a good black outfit, (other colours will not do) and a great liking for soup, sausage rolls and tray bakes. These are very solemn affairs but there are no large outpourings of grief in case one is mistaken for belonging to a denomination other than the Church of Scotland or coming from some soft part of the UK, where people are prone to hysteria. They are generally much enjoyed and it saves getting ones’ own lunch at least once a week.
So dear lady from London and anyone else out there who thinks they can cope with my top 10 pieces of advice for country living, then I suggest you telephone your lawyer and begin your search for your rural idyll. As ever advanced tuition is available in my gracious living programme.
Oh I think that librarian is waving at me, I do hope there are no unsavoury bookmarks.
à bientôt
Muriel Wylie
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