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WRITERS EYES / ASCRIBER Uniting Writers Around The World Online Writing Group
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by
Dolly Bird
The Real Thing
A letter arrived at Glencoyl Castle from Buckingham Palace addressed to me of all people. It contained an invitation, or rather, I was summoned to attend a Royal garden party.
I love our Queen; long may she reign. But I was reluctant to accept even this honour because: one, I have no best clothes to wear and two, I have nobody to ask about what to wear. So I went to my nearest town and in a dress shop an assistant eyed me up and down.
'Can I help you, Madam?'
'I hope so,' I replied.
'Is there an occasion, Madam?'
'Oh, well,' I said casually, 'I've had an invitation to go to a Royal garden party.' Her attitude changed immediately. She fussed around me then and suggested several outfits she stocked that were in vogue at the time. 'And, naturally, Madam must have a hat to match her ensemble.' I had never worn a fashionable hat in my life so what was I to do? Refuse the invitation just because of that? No, it was an honour after all.
'It is a tradition to wear a hat to a Royal Garden Party,' she emphasised the last words. I`m an outdoor girl. Since I am out in all weathers, I haven't any best clothes as such, only garments to keep me warm and dry and waterproof hoods and woolly hats.
My job in life is looking after a pack of animals which are wild but I have been able to save them from extinction in the highlands of Scotland. Initially, I made arrangements with the Duke of Glencoyl to let me roam freely on his land. He said that if I was successful in tracking down a male and a female I could carry on with my project. The land of mountains and deer and sheep always fascinated me; though the weather conditions may be unpredictable. I found a crofter's hut that had a small fireplace and I took a camp bed and sleeping bag up there and made myself at home. I made forages and managed to snare hare and eat fruit and vegetation. On these treks I was constantly on the lookout for my quarry. Among spectacular scenery of rocks and heather I would be chilled by drizzle then warmed by the sun, surprised by lightning and thunder and lashed by hailstones. I would be standing in a cloudburst and see the sun shining on the peak of a nearby crag. Consequently, my face became weather-beaten and my hands gnarled. I went down to Glencoyl Castle occasionally to report to the Laird. He made me a welcome guest so that I bathed and had my clothes washed. He fed me a good meal or two with wine and we sat until late with more than one wee dram of whisky.
Eventually, before the snowstorms began, I happened to see, with my binoculars, a body in the heather. It was a dead animal and it had been there for some time but surely it was what I had been looking for. I gathered it up in my hands and bore it triumphantly to show the Laird.
The butler did not allow me in at the front door.
'His Lairdship will not want remains of an unknown object in the front of the Castle,' he said pompously.
I was ordered to go all the way round to the back kitchen door. However, here I was met by the Laird himself; he sent away all the staff and took me alone to an unused scullery. I laid my precious find reverently on a scrubbed table and waited for him to examine.
`Yes! Yes! This is a Haggis all right! Och aye!`
The staff had been told that I was a girl doing something scientific and
butler thought nothing of the thing at the front door. Therefore, the Laird
was the only one in on the project and he lived alone so there was no
prying family to intrude on our conversations. The Laird of Glencoyl
and I never looked back. He gave me the run of his entire deer and sheep terrain and left me to it., telling me in no uncertain terms that the real Haggis tasted very different to the manufactured stuff superstores called haggis.
But now I was on the trail of the real thing.
After several months, at long last, at the end of an exhausting day quartering the territory, I looked at my empty map which I hoped to be able to record sightings.
Then I had a quick look out of the door at the autumn evening which was brilliantly lit with the setting sun. Rowan leaves and berries showed their variety of red colours dotted about the vista. Unexpectedly, I saw a movement beneath one of the stunted trees. I excitedly pointed my telescope at the spot. All I could see was some fur and something which looked like long feathers waving above. Something or someone was thrashing about. My eyes could not define whether there were actually two things having a power struggle. Then darkness fell and could see no more that day.
was nothing to be seen. I began to imagine that I had seen two males of
the Haggis species fighting over a female. Was I going crazy? Deer were moved by sexual excitement at this time of year so could it be the Rut of the Haggis I had glimpsed?
After a day or two, I thought one or two strange men were stalking me so in the next few days so I had no chance to visit the spot where I thought I had seen the Rut, if it was one. So my progress would be in vain if I was being watched.
However, the winter set in with a vengeance and I had to stay at the castle for a couple of months. Lord Glencoyl was sure that his gillies were not aware of any poachers after his deer. So might be imagining it all.
Springtime was around the corner and I couldn't wait to get up to my little hut again. I left quietly; the Laird made sure that he was the only person who knew where I had gone. He arranged a supply of food for me to take with me and I set off, a faggot of wood on my back and great hope in my heart.
I was rewarded with a sighting not long after I got my bearings again and found my hut. The latest snowfall showed prints which I was able to follow, keeping downwind and carrying a compass. The prints were not those of hooves or claws but an unfamiliar shape which could only be the special ones I sought. Even though I saw nothing but I was able to sense the presence of my quarry.
I persevered with my undertaking and then the time came when the Spring season began to melt the snow and I had my first breathtaking experience. I actually came across a baby Haggis. It had no fur nor feather and its little legs were almost nonexistent but it had the familiar look of a Haggis.
That was the beginning of my herd or flock and I became the official herdswoman or shepherdess whichever you like.
Eventually, I was able to save many a baby Haggis from golden eagles and foxes and the record of numbers grew steadily. The Laird said it was time to commercialise the project and we actually had a cattle farm – I called it a ranch – and we were able to prevent poaching and sell Haggis to the top restaurants in Scotland. Chefs knew they were dealing with the real thing now and not the manufactured product. Then stores all over Great Britain refused the made-up variety and opted for the Real Thing. Now you know our brand name and The Real Thing Ranch Haggis was a success.
The invitation from the Palace referred to “services rendered to the tradition and culture of Scotland”.
I bought a no-nonsense dress and jacket which I could wear afterwards to the kirk on Sundays together with some new underwear and tights and comfortable shoes. All that remained to be chosen was the hat. 'Madam should wear a Fascinator,' said the assistant in the shop. When I learned what that meant I made my own hat. It consisted of a hair band with some Haggis fur in a small oval shape on the side of my head. Then I stuck one or two of the long thin wavy tails with the tufts o fur on the end.
The Laird approved of my hairdo and the makeup they put on my face and the manicure for my hands. He consented to accompany me to London and he would be by my side when I curtseyed to the Queen.
Comments
Opening: 10
Dorothy Spry
Characterisation: 6
Dialogue: 9
Setting: 5
Plot: 8
Suspense=4
Ending: 7
Enjoyment: 3
comments: I think this short story is the best. I have put comments on the other stories but nobody else seems to want to join in the fun.