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How to Survive in a Highland Village

Friday 7.30pm – 9pm. Village Hall.

All welcome.

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Dinah was carrying two gifts. She could have put them down on the doorstep to open the door but, not being a slim woman, this would have been too problematic, she’d decided. So, with the Wandering Sailor cushioned against her chest, she softly knocked, awkwardly turned the knob and elbowed the front door open.

‘Oh!’ said the startled occupant. She wasn’t expecting that.

‘Oh!’ repeated a startled Dinah. She wasn’t expecting that!

The occupant was leaning against the mantelpiece, glass in hand, and had been viewing her backside in a floor-length mirror that was propped against the sitting room wall. Two things immediately intrigued Dinah. (And she would discuss this, in detail, later with Nancy.)

• Why was the newcomer drinking at 8.40am?
• And why was she wearing a saucy tight black-lacy teddy with dangling suspenders and purple satin bows, when her daytime attire was flowing floor-length voluminous hippie skirts?

‘Did you forget I said I’d stop by?’ Dinah blurted.

Two things bothered the occupant about this encounter. (And she would discuss this, in detail, later with Mrs Frobisher.)

• Why don’t villagers knock and then wait for a door to be answered?
• And what gives strangers the right to just burst into your home?

The occupant had barely been introduced to her guest. She’d briefly met her in the village shop. She’d given her a cursory polite smile. Like you do. And this woman had boldly replied, ‘So you’re the woman from England then? The one with the yappy wee dog. I’m in a hurry now but I’ll pop in later.’ And so here she was. Large and loud in her Breakfast Room with, bizarrely, a potted plant in one hand and, absurdly, a cucumber in the other. Small wonder Roly was frantic! He had been curled up, fast asleep, & looking forward to a lie-in after his breakfast. Now he was required to be on bodyguard duty. Full metal jacket!

‘No, but I didn’t expect you so soon, Doreen. I don’t remember pre-arranging?’ She quickly pulled on a long woolly cardigan that was lying on the back of the armchair.

‘It’s Dinah. Not Doreen.’

‘Oh. And I’m Mercedes. Mercedes Gillander.’

‘Oh. Like the car, fast & racy but now a bit of an old banger!’

‘And you’re Dinah. Once dainty now not so!’

Touché. She liked a woman with an acid wit.

‘From Eddie-the-gardener’s greenhouse.’ She’d added to explain the gifts. ‘Couldn’t come empty-handed.’

‘Right? I’ll be 5 minutes. You’d better fix yourself, and poor Roly, a drink. If he doesn’t relieve himself on the floor first. Don’t get so excited, Mummy’s brave soldier! It’s just a neighbour.’

Yap yap yap yap. Dinah went into the kitchenette and looked for the kettle. The pug just wouldn’t let up. Yap yap yap yap. A worktop of dirty glasses and crockery circled the kettle. Yap yap yap. She noted, for Nancy’s benefit, (because she knew she’d be quizzed soon enough), that the cups were still rowed up on the shelf, unused. So, Mercedes was taking plenty of liquid refreshments, but no hot drinks. Glasses not cups! Bottoms stained red. And they didn’t smell of Ribena. Yap yap. She filled the kettle and switched it on. She pushed some dirty plates aside and sidled the Wandering Sailor into the space. Yap. Not much room here for wandering! Where had she put the cucumber? She turned around to pick it up from the top of the stool where she’d temporarily placed it. But it was gone. And RolyPoly had stopped yapping. The snorting from under the stool turned out to be the pug munching his way through the last 3 inches of the cucumber. She sniggered. That yappy wee dog was an omnivore! And smelly. As he finished it all off with the loudest fart.

‘Where do you come from, with a name like that, Mercedes?’ Dinah shouted upstairs.

‘Home Counties. Expect you’re more used to Kirstys and Jeans here. More traditionally Scottish, I mean.’ Came back the reply.

‘No, no! You’d be wrong on that account. Do you know Janet Sinclair? The one on the Social with the squad of girls. Different fathers, by all accounts.’ When there was no reply from upstairs, Dinah added, ‘the one at the end of Hill Terrace? They had to knock two council houses together to accommodate them all. Nice enough family. Pretty girls. They’re all named after popstars and when Janet ran out of her favourite popstars, she started on her favourite cosmetics! So, the oldest ones are Madonna, Kylie and Rhianna. And remember when Posh Spice called her son Brooklyn - supposedly after the place he’d been conceived? Well, two weeks later, she called her newborn, Castletown! That village in Caithness! Nancy nearly worked that one out herself. I had to give her the clue about Posh Spice, though. And spell it out for her. Nancy’s not hot on popular music.’

‘Right?’'

Mercedes appeared in her familiar yellow Aztec-patterned maxi skirt, blue tie-dyed t-shirt, brown leather Jesus-sandals, and hair grabbed back into a ponytail.

OMG! She just looked like a confused newcomer, finding online a cheap wee cottage in the Highlands, to act out in her own Escape to the Country adventure. Antonia & Giles had packed up and returned to Devon as soon as they’d sold Rainbow Cottage to Mercedes on the internet. They had managed 14 months there. Truth is, they hadn’t bothered to fit in. Bought 2 hens called Sam and Ella (that’s what Geordie-the-post said they were called, if he can be believed!). Antonia supplied the village shop with crème caramels, brie tartlets and tubs of organic free-range mayonnaise. But there wasn’t much uptake for Antonia’s Super Standbys. Generations of village folk had always cooked their own. Their standbys would be scones, or pancakes. Basic standbys.

Besides, the pair had never tried to fit into village life. They never came out of the house to meet anyone. Didn’t buy anything from the village shop, just tried to sell their posh standbys. Sale or Return. No understanding of community. Betty-the-shop wasn’t impressed. She didn’t try so very hard to sell them. They bought all their shopping online, from a supermarket in Wick, and got it delivered for £3. Besides Louise Grant, Eddie-the-gardener’s partner, had just started baking her range of herbal cakes, and they sold out pretty quickly. Louise was altogether better odds. It was a win/win for both Betty and Louise.

Geordie-the-post just left their deliveries in a large British Racing Green enamel post box at the end of their drive. So, he never clapped eyes on them either. Nancy was forced to visit them out of sheer burning, unremitting curiosity. A curiosity that itches red-raw. She knocked determinedly. The door remained unanswered. Firmly locked. She could not gain entry. The net curtains quivered but she didn’t spot anyone. Not even an outline.

When Sam & Ella stopped laying, Antonia & Giles couldn’t seem to dispatch the chooks for a Sunday roast, or even Coq au vin. Instead they buried them at the bottom of the field in a pet cemetery that also contained the remains of their ambling West Country cat, Clot. (Geordie-the-post vouched for its name and its level of IQ). Clot discovered it couldn’t outrun Geordie’s lurcher, Digger. Geordie said that Digger investigated the contents of the grave after they were safely daun sath. Nancy is still trying to get to the bottom of why Digger did it?

So, on past evidence, Mercedes would need all the help she could get. She would need to give up this morning drinking. She would need to do as in Rome. She would need to fraternise with the natives. She would need to fit in. She would need to try a Night Class!

Dinah handed Mercedes a cup of strong tea and jumped right in, ‘Have you thought about a Night Class?’

‘Can’t say I’m into country hobbies like crochet, embroidery or jam making.’

‘You’re absolutely right. That’s so much last year, darling! Then we had Badminton, Wedding Cake Decoration, Lose 2 stone in 4 months and Hadrian’s Wall - effective defensively or not? There wasn’t much uptake. So now all the people in the village get involved. We all run our own night classes. Monday to Friday. We’ve discovered that we all have a lot of information to share. You wouldn’t think it really. From looking at us!’

‘How amusing! Better run Monday night by me then?’

‘Let’s see. Remember some classes have been renamed and adapted to better suit the attendees. Actually, I take a Monday class: Belly Dancing for Beginners. I clearly have the tummy for it. You need plenty of curves to jiggle well! And I have developed quite good hip action. But you’re maybe a bit on the skinny side for my class. I’ve already seen most of you this morning! But bear it in mind?

‘Possibly?’

‘I do have stiff opposition on a Monday. Eddie-the-gardener adapted his Weeds: just flowers in the wrong place? to Weed: how to grow it in a greenhouse. Straight after his class, Louise, his partner, runs the Baking Herbal Cakes class. Her Stress-free Cakes are said to have medicinal qualities. Johnny-the-shepherd goes to it. He’s a fine baker now. He can vouch for the claim. He says he gives one or two to his Ina - if the pain in her knees is bad. She’s as happy as Larry all day after her mid-morning snack, and he’s stress-free! She’s normally a dour bitch. His words! So, he keeps a batch in the freezer, and when her expression turns sour, he puts the kettle on!’

‘I was thinking of stocking up the greenhouse. And that back of mine plays up a bit sometimes.’

‘There you go! That’s Monday night sorted then. On Tuesday, Davey-the-drone takes a specialised class entitled, Drone Technology. With subsections: Make your own Drone; Drone Upkeep; Drone Problem-solving; Drone Photography; 1001 Ways to utilise your Drone. There may well be other subsections. He’s not called Davey-the-drone for nothing!'

‘I’ll pass on that. I’m not what you would call, practical.’

‘However, he does have competition from The MacGregor twins. Hamish MacGregor runs: Make-up for Drag Queens. He thought he could entice the gorgeous Ivor Evans to join. But Ivor didn’t want to come out on a Tuesday night. He does a karaoke tribute set in Thurso on a Monday night. He does Bonnie Tyler and Shirley Bassey, with a touch of Tom Jones, for good measure. It takes a lot out of him. So, he values a rest on Tuesday evenings. So far, only Castletown Sinclair has signed up. She just wants to know how to do her eyebrows better. Hamish-the-twin has neat eyebrows and a specialised knowledge of how to keep them that way. Also on Tuesdays, Hamish’s brother, Hector-the-twin, runs: Tatts.’

‘Country Patchwork?’

‘No! Inking. I go to his class. So far, I’ve got an outline of India on my left shoulder blade. Says he intends to get the rest of Europe done by the end of the 7-week block. Bless him! He has no knowledge of geography. But I’m past backless dresses now, and the lad just needs practice. He could add to that swallow I saw on your collar bone earlier? He could give you a whole flock! You just have to choose the direction of flight wisely. His hands are on the cold side. And they are not identical twins, if you catch my drift?

‘Oh! I think so.’

‘You might have preferred Ross-the-music-teacher’s: The Works of Puccini but only KT Sinclair attended the first session. She had mixed up Puccini with Pusha T, an American rapper. So, Ross finally compromised on: Cheryl Cole – Her Life, Her Music, Her frocks, Her Hair. She’s persuaded her sisters to come along to make sure the class runs. But L’Oréal and young Elvive are just going for the Her Hair bit, apparently!

‘Appears to be lots of, shall we say, glamorous elements to Tuesday nights. I’m more into the au natural look myself!’

‘Moving swiftly onto Wednesday nights then. Let me think? Emm. Scott-the-butcher, and Findlay-the fish, both from Myster….

‘Myster?’

‘The next village. 4 miles north. Both men have food vans that come here on a Tuesday? Originally their classes were going to be on a Friday. But that proved to be problematic. There’s a very popular class on a Friday night. So, both opted for Wednesday night instead. Scott-the-butcher’s class was going to be: Endless Ways with Mince; while Findlay-the-fish’s class was going to be: Lure your Man with Fish Pie. Both have now upgraded their classes to: Beef Wellington, ‘cos he’s worth it; and Hooked on Halibut. Good businessmen are always looking to increase their sales and revenue! Personally, I don’t know which class to pick. The classes are quite popular. Everyone, seemingly, is keen to catch a man, and then keep him satisfied!’

‘Really? That’s food for thought!’

‘Oh, not forgetting that Janet Sinclair is taking a Wednesday night class: Animal Husbandry. And boy, should she know all about husbands! But now I hear she’s changed it to: Breeding Cocker Spaniels. You have to be suspicious though, because she has a cocker bitch and she’s only looking for folk with male cocker spaniels, or at a stretch, male poodles, to sign up. She’d make a bit of money if that class went ahead! I think that about covers Wednesdays.’

‘I’m so curious about Thursday nights now. What else could there possibly be?’

Mercedes could barely conceal a laugh that had started to bubble up inside her throat. She would have to email her BF, Lucy, directly! This was absolutely priceless!

‘There’s dog classes on Thursdays.’

‘Agility? Roly does need the exercise.’

‘Kind of. Johnny-the-shepherd runs: Any Dog can be a Sheep Dog. But we all know Johnny’s thinking ahead to his vision of his very own Volunteer Sheep Dog Bank, which he can call upon once his collie, Jagger, starts gathering moss. He’s already a bit slow on the outruns. And sometimes the sheep stubbornly keep eating, and won’t budge an inch.’

‘Roly, I feel, lacks alacrity.’

‘Hamish-the-twin also runs a class on Thursdays: Dress up your Dog. But he’s only into pink-satin doggie ballgowns, and sequinned tiaras. He’s not into heavy tweed doggie suits, or even bowties.’

‘Roly doesn’t suit pink, I’m afraid. And too portly to do justice to fitted garments!’

‘Come to think of it, Davey-the-drone was deliberating about: Manned Drones. And he was looking for a small dog to volunteer for the initial tests?

‘Roly, I believe, is too weighty for that caper!’

‘Quite! And also rocket propelled. Can’t you get the whiff from his rear end? Anyway, I suspect you’ll have to leave Roly at home. You could consider Nancy’s class? Nancy is Geordie-the-post’s sister. They stay together. She’s started a class on Thursday nights. It was called: Crime Writing. Clues & Evidence. Now renamed: Neighbourhood Watch – Good or Evil? No-one knows quite what she means by it? It’s a bit of a mystery!

‘That’s interesting! I might get some tips. I’ve always thought there’s a book in me.’

‘Tips from Nancy? Well, Nancy makes a point of quizzing Geordie - daily -about all his deliveries. Who he’s been to? What the parcels could contain? For instance, she thought your delivery yesterday from Dangerous Down Under could be Australian Outback Adventure Books until Geordie said it was quite light AND had a UK stamp. Then she came up with an idea that it might be scented swimwear to repel sharks. Like Geordie told me – she has an imagination that most 4-year olds can only aspire to! I’m the only one who knows the contents of that package! Besides yourself, obviously! But I mustn’t embarrass you.’

‘And Friday night’s offerings?’ Mercedes asked quickly.

‘There’s only one class in the village on a Friday Night: How to Survive in a Highland Village. Colonel Frobisher takes it.’

‘That must be well attended if other classes have changed their times to accommodate it?’

‘Not really. Mrs Frobisher goes for moral support. And Nancy goes, although she’s survived here for over 74 years!’

‘So, a veritable veteran of surviving in a Highland village! How puzzling!’

‘It’s not such a puzzle. It’s because no-one’s ever seen the Colonel. Nancy has decided: for some reason, he must be undercover in the Highlands? Whenever Geordie delivers a parcel to the Frobishers, he has to first ring an electronic buzzer at the main gate of Birch Tree Hall. Eventually the gate opens, but only an outstretched arm shoots out to grab the item. No other part of the man has been visible to Geordie. Nancy asked Geordie for a full description of the arm, the clothing worn, short-sleeves or long, the hairiness of the arm, rings or any other distinguishing features? But even Geordie’s detailed replies were not good enough for her inquisitive mind. The only way to solve this riddle was to attend his class, get a proper look at him, and take time to deduce why he’s undercover!’

‘So, what does everyone else do on a Friday night?’

‘Geordie gives the rest of us a lift into Myster. We go to the village hall there, and take part in: Swinging for the over-50s. If we’re lucky, we’ll get home the next day! Today’s Friday. Interested? It’s survival of the fittest in this village!’

‘Count me in, darling! Yesterday’s delivery was just so perfectly timed!’

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