A Lowland Adventure - Mr. Maxwells' Vacation

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Some readers have privately expressed their difficulty in following the broader Scots used by various characters in this novelette. It would, of course, be possible to simply render all in plain American English.
However, the author believes there is value in authenticity. These are the sounds and words of the lilting tongue that Alex encountered in the Lowlands. “It's the langage that feels sort of 'reet' tae me.”

For support in this choice, I appeal to the words of the great exemplar of Scottish poetry in the vernacular, Robert Burns.

There is a naivete, a pastoral simplicity, in a slight inter-mixture of Scots words and phraseology, which is more in unison (at least to my taste, and, I will add, to every genuine Caledonian) with the simple pathos, or rustic sprightliness, of our native music, than any English Verses whatever.

 

[Fossy]

Some readers have privately expressed their difficulty in following the broader Scots used by various characters in this novelette. It would, of course, be possible to simply render all in plain American English.
However, the author believes there is value in authenticity. These are the sounds and words of the lilting tongue that Alex encountered in the Lowlands. “It's the langage that feels sort of 'reet' tae me.”

For support in this choice, I appeal to the words of the great exemplar of Scottish poetry in the vernacular, Robert Burns.

There is a naivete, a pastoral simplicity, in a slight inter-mixture of Scots words and phraseology, which is more in unison (at least to my taste, and, I will add, to every genuine Caledonian) with the simple pathos, or rustic sprightliness, of our native music, than any English Verses whatever.

I agree it helps with the authenticity and remember PrPr ... “a nod’s as guid as a wink tae a blind horse”

 

[twonines]

"Farm Girl; strong; ... Virgin ..." Think the first two factors might well contribute to the third

Caviar comes from the virgin Sturgeon,
The virgin Sturgeon is a very fine fish.
The virgin Sturgeon needs no urgin`
That`s why caviar`s such a rare dish.

 

[montycrusto]

Caviar comes from the virgin Sturgeon,
The virgin Sturgeon is a very fine fish.
The virgin Sturgeon needs no urgin`
That`s why caviar`s such a rare dish.

A bit more respect for the First Minister of Scotland, please, @twonines !

 

[montycrusto]

"It is a Renault Clio," said Jessie in an offended tone that Alex missed. "It's a bonnie car. Gey sexy!"

I don’t know if you’re familiar with “The Crow Road” by Iain Banks; there’s a bit where a (young female) character confesses her love of her Renault Clio is based on the erotic sensations produced by the car’s stiff suspension and hard seats when driving along cobbled streets. This prompts the main character (young male) to experience clitoris-envy

 

[Migoz2]

I don’t know if you’re familiar with “The Crow Road” by Iain Banks; there’s a bit where a (young female) character confesses her love of her Renault Clio is based on the erotic sensations produced by the car’s stiff suspension and hard seats when driving along cobbled streets. This prompts the main character (young male) to experience clitoris-envy

 

[Eulalia]

I don’t know if you’re familiar with “The Crow Road” by Iain Banks; there’s a bit where a (young female) character confesses her love of her Renault Clio is based on the erotic sensations produced by the car’s stiff suspension and hard seats when driving along cobbled streets. This prompts the main character (young male) to experience clitoris-envy

my secret's betrayed! It's a long time since I read The Crow Road, I'd quite forgotten that, perhaps it was subliminal suggestion - but I think it was rather the wonderful Nicole et Papa adverts that I was exposed to at an impressionable age

(and there is something erotic about the feel of the seats and the suspension, especially on Scottish mountain roads - though for bouncing along on cobbles - or 'dustbinning' along farm tracks - the 2CV is the car you need, designed to carry a load of eggs across a ploughed field without breaking any!)

 

[montycrusto]

my secret's betrayed! It's a long time since I read The Crow Road, I'd quite forgotten that, perhaps it was subliminal suggestion - but I think it was rather the wonderful Nicole et Papa adverts that I was exposed to at an impressionable age

(and there is something erotic about the feel of the seats and the suspension, especially on Scottish mountain roads - though for bouncing along on cobbles - or 'dustbinning' along farm tracks - the 2CV is the car you need, design to carry a load of eggs across a ploughed field without breaking any!)

I had SUCH a crush on “Nicole” from those Clio ads

 

[montycrusto]

Come to think of it, that would have made a way better advert; “Nicole” driving her Clio at full-tilt up a cobbled street while in the throes of a non-stop violent screaming orgasm I mean who wouldn’t buy that car?

 

[Eulalia]

You such a romantic, Monty! Actually, my Clio has a secret button, like on those chairs in the hairdressers that you can set to vibrate for a 'massage', so the level of intensity of my orgasms can be adjusted to the road surface and how warm I am down there. Mind, hitting a pothole, as is a common experience on our roads, can be a sudden and not very erotic assault.

 

[montycrusto]

You such a romantic, Monty! Actually, my Clio has a secret button, like on those chairs in the hairdressers that you can set to vibrate for a 'massage', so the level of intensity of my orgasms can be adjusted to the road surface and how warm I am down there. Mind, hitting a pothole, as is a common experience on our roads, can be a sudden and not very erotic assault.

Ohh, very “Austin Powers” .. or do I mean “Carry On Clio”?

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

[Episode 11]

Log cabin home in the sky*

As they approached the car, Alex commented, "It's a rather cute little car. I like that color. What's it called?" Alex might not have been totally sincere in his appreciation of the little French car, but he'd figured out that he had hurt Jessie's feeling when he'd made fun of it. So he was trying to make amends.
"It's called 'Valencia Orange.' I think it's braw!" Jessie didn't believe that Alex liked Clio. But it was clear he was trying to be friendly and take back his insults. She appreciated that.

As he often did these last few days, Alex started for the wrong side of the car. He bumped into Jessie, and he realized his error, and they both laughed nervously at the accidental contact.
Jessie backed the car skillfully out of the drive and, shifting gears effortlessly, headed down into the town center. There, rather than continuing towards the bridge that Alex had driven over when he arrived, she turned onto the High Street that justified its name by rising steeply from the town center. It soon took them out of the small town heading south. They passed the Kenmuir Golf Club on the right,
and the way gradually descended into pleasant views of fields and streams. A half-mile on, Alex noticed a sign for Kenmuir Castle. Jessie said that it was an important place in the history of Gallovidia, home of a powerful branch of the Gordon family. It was a 17th-century castle remodeled several times, lastly, into a hotel destroyed by fire in the 1970s. "It's a fine ruin the noo," she said, "but ye canna visit it, too dangerous."

Alex developed a grudging appreciation for the girl's driving skills as she piloted the sprightly little car on the narrow winding road.
Soon the way came to a lovely section with Loch Kean stretching down to the left and deep woods climbing on the right. Everything seemed washed clean by the rain in the night. Today, the sky was clear, and the sun bright. Flocks of waterfowl were enjoying the summer day on the lake, and Alex spotted one of the few species he knew, red-breasted mergansers. He looked over to Jessie, and his heart fluttered. The flock of familiar birds and his newfound infatuation with this Scottish lassie reminded him of another of his favorite author's sayings: "How fleeting are all human passions compared with the massive continuity of ducks."**


Two miles later, the road left the Loch and began climbing through scattered woods and fields. Another quarter mile and Jessie turned on a small side road to the right. This wound back into mostly woodland. As side branches went off, the road seems to shrink until it was little more than a gravel path. Alex noticed that there had been no signs of any kind since they'd left the road. And there was precious little evidence of human occupation.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Weel, the address is still Kenmuir, but our postal city," she grinned at Alex as she said this, "is Castle Wraith, would you believe?" "Some city!" Alex agreed, with a chuckle, "But what's this place called?" "Benneen," replied Jessie.
Just then, she turned left on a tiny path, which she followed about 200 yards into tall woods. At the end was a little clearing and a log building that Alex thought the large tool shed. But it was well kept with flower boxes and curtains in the front windows. Despite the homey decor, Alex's first thought was "Uni-bomber."

"Here it is," said Jessie proudly. "My Ain Hoose!"
"Jeeze," he said. "Are you alone here or what?" How far to your nearest neighbor?"
"I like my peace and quiet," Jessie said with affection, "Aul Mrs. Campbell is just ower the way," she pointed South toward a wooded rise. "Nae mair nor a three-quarter mile."
Alex's thoughts were how isolated and unguarded Jessie was here. However, hearing the pride in her voice, he bit his tongue for the moment.

They got out of the car and walked to the cottage. Jessie stopped to deadhead some flowers while Alex hobbled up the front path. As he approached the door, she said, "Wait. I'll come an unlock it for ye." As she said that, Alex pushed the door open. It was already ajar!
"I locked it when I left! I sweer I did!

*Log cabin home in the sky – a song by the Incredible String Band from Glasgow.

**Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers.


The Adventure of the Empty House*
"I locked it when I left! I sweer I did! said Jessie, running toward the door. Alex held out his arm and stopped her as he leaned down and closely examined the large brass door latch.

"May I see your door key," he asked in a calm voice. The incident seemed to have concentrated his attention while instilling a calmness in his demeanor.
Jessie fumbled, removing the key from her ring, and handed it to him while trying to peer past into her violated home.

Alex looked at the key and then the lock and mumbled to himself with evident dissatisfaction, "Mortise…lever tumbler lock…three-lever." He sighed and turned to Jessie.
"Do you know how to pick a lock?"
"Nae, dinna ken at a"
"I often wonder what we send children to school for," said Alex. "Let me show you something."
"Shoud we na luik tae see first gin there's ilkane inside?”
"Long gone, I'm sure." With that, he pulled the door shut and locked it with her key, and handed it back to her. He took out his key ring and removed a small rod of metal that looked like a double-ended Allen Wrench. He slipped it in the keyhole, gently jiggled it twice, and calmly turned the nob to open the door.
Jessie's mouth dropped open. "Fecks! Hoo did ye dae yon?"
"I could have done it just as easy with a Bobbie Pin, though those are harder to find these days. Let me say. This is NOT a high-security lock!"

Alex pushed open the door and waved Jessie in. "Please look around before I enter. See what is altered, if any. But move and touch as little as possible."
Jessie walked in. While she wasn't a detective like Alex, she was very observant of people. She saw him checking out her ass as she squeezed by. She surprised herself by smiling at it.
Jessie went around the three-room home (sitting room, kitchen, bedroom) looking for signs of invasion without disturbing anything for Alex. She was gaining a grudging admiration for his skills as a detective. And she had to concede that he was behaving slightly less like an arrogant Sassenach. She thought he was kind of cute. "Haud your horses, lassie! She told herself. Dinna lowp in ower yer hurdies whan ye dinna ken the water." One of the reasons that Jessie lived alone was the painful misadventures and even disasters of her former relationships.
"I've luiked awhere. You may come in."
Alex entered, watching his feet closely as he took each step. "Any signs?"
"Yes, I'm certain. Several papers on my desk there," Jessie indicated a tidy computer hutch in the corner with two computers and monitors, a portable land-line phone, and several neat piles of papers. All marked extensively with what appeared to be editing and corrections. "They've been moved."
"They look pretty neat. Are you sure?"
"I'm haillie siccar."
"Then it must be so," said Alex. He didn't really know what she'd said, but it seemed convincing. "Anything else?"
"Naething obvious, jist things that seem slightly, er, misbehadden, nae quite whaur they shud be. Someone wis here."
"I believe you. There are dirt marks on the carpet that aren't from your shoes. Faint, but they are there and fresh. I'm sorry to be seeming to try to scare you, Jessie, but it appears someone is stalking you."

*The Return of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

 

[Barbaria1]

Alex developed a grudging appreciation for the girl's driving skills as she piloted the sprightly little car on the narrow winding road.

I wish people around here would do the same for me!

Lovely chapter PrPr. Enjoying the careful attention to detail, character development, dialogue, and plot. Charmingly told.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

I wish my readers a Merry Christmas or whatever Holiday you might take. There will be a short hiatus here with the next post 12/26. Stay tuned. More mystery and excitement and flirting to follow.

 

[Migoz2]

I wish people around here would do the same for me!

I appreciate your driving...... In the same way I appreciate an erupting volcano - at a great distance and with a lot of trepidation

 

[Fossy]

[Episode 11]

Log cabin home in the sky*

As they approached the car, Alex commented, "It's a rather cute little car. I like that color. What's it called?" Alex might not have been totally sincere in his appreciation of the little French car, but he'd figured out that he had hurt Jessie's feeling when he'd made fun of it. So he was trying to make amends.
"It's called 'Valencia Orange.' I think it's braw!" Jessie didn't believe that Alex liked Clio. But it was clear he was trying to be friendly and take back his insults. She appreciated that.
View attachment 944168
As he often did these last few days, Alex started for the wrong side of the car. He bumped into Jessie, and he realized his error, and they both laughed nervously at the accidental contact.
Jessie backed the car skillfully out of the drive and, shifting gears effortlessly, headed down into the town center. There, rather than continuing towards the bridge that Alex had driven over when he arrived, she turned onto the High Street that justified its name by rising steeply from the town center. It soon took them out of the small town heading south. They passed the Kenmuir Golf Club on the right,
View attachment 944175 and the way gradually descended into pleasant views of fields and streams. A half-mile on, Alex noticed a sign for Kenmuir Castle. Jessie said that it was an important place in the history of Gallovidia, home of a powerful branch of the Gordon family. It was a 17th-century castle remodeled several times, lastly, into a hotel destroyed by fire in the 1970s. "It's a fine ruin the noo," she said, "but ye canna visit it, too dangerous."
View attachment 944170
Alex developed a grudging appreciation for the girl's driving skills as she piloted the sprightly little car on the narrow winding road.
Soon the way came to a lovely section with Loch Kean stretching down to the left and deep woods climbing on the right. Everything seemed washed clean by the rain in the night. Today, the sky was clear, and the sun bright. Flocks of waterfowl were enjoying the summer day on the lake, and Alex spotted one of the few species he knew, red-breasted mergansers. He looked over to Jessie, and his heart fluttered. The flock of familiar birds and his newfound infatuation with this Scottish lassie reminded him of another of his favorite author's sayings: "How fleeting are all human passions compared with the massive continuity of ducks."**
View attachment 944169

Two miles later, the road left the Loch and began climbing through scattered woods and fields. Another quarter mile and Jessie turned on a small side road to the right. This wound back into mostly woodland. As side branches went off, the road seems to shrink until it was little more than a gravel path. Alex noticed that there had been no signs of any kind since they'd left the road. And there was precious little evidence of human occupation.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Weel, the address is still Kenmuir, but our postal city," she grinned at Alex as she said this, "is Castle Wraith, would you believe?" "Some city!" Alex agreed, with a chuckle, "But what's this place called?" "Benneen," replied Jessie.
Just then, she turned left on a tiny path, which she followed about 200 yards into tall woods. At the end was a little clearing and a log building that Alex thought the large tool shed. But it was well kept with flower boxes and curtains in the front windows. Despite the homey decor, Alex's first thought was "Uni-bomber."

"Here it is," said Jessie proudly. "My Ain Hoose!"
"Jeeze," he said. "Are you alone here or what?" How far to your nearest neighbor?"
"I like my peace and quiet," Jessie said with affection, "Aul Mrs. Campbell is just ower the way," she pointed South toward a wooded rise. "Nae mair nor a three-quarter mile."
Alex's thoughts were how isolated and unguarded Jessie was here. However, hearing the pride in her voice, he bit his tongue for the moment.

They got out of the car and walked to the cottage. Jessie stopped to deadhead some flowers while Alex hobbled up the front path. As he approached the door, she said, "Wait. I'll come an unlock it for ye." As she said that, Alex pushed the door open. It was already ajar!
"I locked it when I left! I sweer I did!

*Log cabin home in the sky – a song by the Incredible String Band from Glasgow.

**Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers.


The Adventure of the Empty House*
"I locked it when I left! I sweer I did! said Jessie, running toward the door. Alex held out his arm and stopped her as he leaned down and closely examined the large brass door latch.
View attachment 944171
"May I see your door key," he asked in a calm voice. The incident seemed to have concentrated his attention while instilling a calmness in his demeanor.
Jessie fumbled, removing the key from her ring, and handed it to him while trying to peer past into her violated home.

Alex looked at the key and then the lock and mumbled to himself with evident dissatisfaction, "Mortise…lever tumbler lock…three-lever." He sighed and turned to Jessie.
"Do you know how to pick a lock?"
"Nae, dinna ken at a"
"I often wonder what we send children to school for," said Alex. "Let me show you something."
"Shoud we na luik tae see first gin there's ilkane inside?”
"Long gone, I'm sure." With that, he pulled the door shut and locked it with her key, and handed it back to her. He took out his key ring and removed a small rod of metal that looked like a double-ended Allen Wrench. He slipped it in the keyhole, gently jiggled it twice, and calmly turned the nob to open the door.
Jessie's mouth dropped open. "Fecks! Hoo did ye dae yon?"
"I could have done it just as easy with a Bobbie Pin, though those are harder to find these days. Let me say. This is NOT a high-security lock!"

Alex pushed open the door and waved Jessie in. "Please look around before I enter. See what is altered, if any. But move and touch as little as possible."
Jessie walked in. While she wasn't a detective like Alex, she was very observant of people. She saw him checking out her ass as she squeezed by. She surprised herself by smiling at it.
Jessie went around the three-room home (sitting room, kitchen, bedroom) looking for signs of invasion without disturbing anything for Alex. She was gaining a grudging admiration for his skills as a detective. And she had to concede that he was behaving slightly less like an arrogant Sassenach. She thought he was kind of cute. "Haud your horses, lassie! She told herself. Dinna lowp in ower yer hurdies whan ye dinna ken the water." One of the reasons that Jessie lived alone was the painful misadventures and even disasters of her former relationships.
"I've luiked awhere. You may come in."
Alex entered, watching his feet closely as he took each step. "Any signs?"
"Yes, I'm certain. Several papers on my desk there," Jessie indicated a tidy computer hutch in the corner with two computers and monitors, a portable land-line phone, and several neat piles of papers. All marked extensively with what appeared to be editing and corrections. "They've been moved."
"They look pretty neat. Are you sure?"
"I'm haillie siccar."
"Then it must be so," said Alex. He didn't really know what she'd said, but it seemed convincing. "Anything else?"
"Naething obvious, jist things that seem slightly, er, misbehadden, nae quite whaur they shud be. Someone wis here."
"I believe you. There are dirt marks on the carpet that aren't from your shoes. Faint, but they are there and fresh. I'm sorry to be seeming to try to scare you, Jessie, but it appears someone is stalking you."

*The Return of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

A bonny lassie oan her ain isolated fae a'body else wi' a stalker oan haun ... what could possibly go wrong! Another excellent chapter PrPr. Tension building nicely ...

 

[Fossy]

I wish my readers a Merry Christmas or whatever Holiday you might take. There will be a short hiatus here with the next post 12/26. Stay tuned. More mystery and excitement and flirting to follow.

And the same to you my friend ... a local seasonal song to leave you with ...

Twalve days o yuletide (The Kenmuir Version):

Twai haggis puddins.
Eleven fiddlers bowing and
Ten pipers piping,
Nine clarsachs strumming,
Echt robins cheepin,
Seven trifles reemin,
Six clootie dumplins,

FIIIIIVE INGEN RINGS …

Fower roaster dyeuks,
Three clockin hens,
Two bubblyjocks,
And One capercailzie, (in a pear tree!)


(Add the tune yourselves )

 

[montycrusto]

It's called 'Valencia Orange.' I think it's braw

Well well I didn’t know THAT

but apparently Valencia Orange Clios are a thing, I shall look out for them! Mind you, round here in the swamps of Somerset, all cars are mud-coloured. And can’t be cleaned because the mud is the only thing holding them together

 

[twonines]

I wish my readers a Merry Christmas or whatever Holiday you might take. There will be a short hiatus here with the next post 12/26. Stay tuned. More mystery and excitement and flirting to follow.

And to you, thanks for all the enjoyment your writings have given us in 2020!