A Holiday Unlike Any Other

There’s a scene towards the end of The Return of the King when the hobbits have returned to The Shire and everyone is in the tavern, oblivious to the fact that anything life-changing has happened.  Leaving aside the fact that this was not at all like the book, it is the silence and expressions of these four characters which mirror my own.

Dunalastair Estate of Outlander fame
and our destination for Easter

Usually, after a two-week holiday, I grumble a little bit about where the time has gone and bemoan the fact that I’ve wasted it.  I never really did outgrow that.  This time, though, I don’t know how I’ve fitted it all in.  I’ve clocked up over 2000 miles on the road, visited one of my stomping grounds, and discovered riches and ruins of Highland Perthshire.  But it’s not that which left me in a confused limbo between worlds.  I became a published author.

My new book with hundreds of its ancestors

at Innerpeffray Library

After travelling back home to the far north of Scotland, I wandered around my local Tesco with a feeling and expression akin to those four hobbits.  No one in the shop knew – or cared – about the whirlwind adventure I’d been on.  But certainly, I feel I’ve accomplished a great thing.

It’s frightening putting yourself out there.  After all, your soul must leach onto the page a little bit to create a story which is worth sharing.  I’ve been performing since my age was in single figures, sometimes even for local or international dignitaries, but I’d never been as scared as I was standing in front of people and reading my own text to them.  I really felt I was baring my soul, and not just to the people who were at the book launch events, but to the whole world.

Thankfully, at my first event, the Duckegg Theatre Company were there to enact some of the scenes.  And what an amazing job they made of it!  [Full videos are on the Facebook page]

The second event had a much more intimate setting in the beautiful hidden gem of Innerpeffray Library, an historical venue, perfect for the book launch.

An author in her natural habitat: A library!

You can read the blog about the two launches here.

Why have I told you all this?  Well, to say thank you, really.  This thing which passed so many people by in silence and obscurity has meant a great deal to me.  So, to you who have discovered this blog; have read the book; have attended and even performed at the launch events: Thank you.  It may not seem like a big thing, but it’s the world to me.

Taken from your words written in the guestbook.

The book is here in paperback and here in ebook format.  And here’s a section to whet your appetite:

CHAPTER FOUR

Sunday 7th September 1806

Summer in Petrovia Lodge lacked the exciting comings and goings of London, but it was far from dull. The company of the three sisters had improved immensely and they now spent every moment laughing over things that occurred and celebrating the long summer days. The gypsies had moved on now leaving, as usual, gifts for the family in exchange for the permission to reside on their land. The usual gifts of wooden pegs and finely carved figures of animals were left by the river, but in addition Madame Kerina paid a visit up to the house. It was the eve of their departure and she walked up the lawn, calling out in a strange language and in a loud voice so that the five inhabitants of the lodge rushed out to see what it was. She walked up to Arabella and tied a soft red ribbon about her neck.

‘I have seen a child on the lawns of Petrovia Lodge. Do not wear the black of mourning for long, my dear. I hear wedding bells ringing, with laughter but a taste of sorrow.’

‘Wedding bells?’ Arabella whispered, hardly daring to believe the witch who stood before her, yet desperate to do so.

Madame Kerina did not speak again but hobbled away back to the settlement of caravans. Each of the women looked down at the ribbon around Arabella’s neck and, as one, her sisters began congratulating her as though it never occurred to them that the divination may have been incorrect.

September made its appearance in its usual golden way while summer clawed at the earth, doing everything it could to maintain its hold. The fruits of the trees by the river shone as they grew and, where edible, the girls walked down each day to collect them.

‘Nothing tastes so good as a freshly picked apple,’ Catherine announced as she bit into one.

‘We are meant to be taking them back up to the lodge, Cat,’ Imogen replied. ‘We’re already behind with this, and we stand no chance of getting to the top of the trees as Hamish used to.’

‘I can get to the top,’ Catherine replied fearlessly, gripping the apple she was eating firmly in her teeth and commencing the climbing of the tree.

‘You know you should not compare Cat to any man, she has to beat them.’ Arabella looked up as Catherine called down.

‘A messenger! I think we have a letter!’