#Kailyard School

[uwmspeccoll]

Publishers’ Binding Thursday

This week’s publishers’ binding is this lovely little tome, Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush. Written by Scottish minister and author Ian Maclaren (1850-1907), Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush was first published in 1894. Ian Maclaren is a pseudonym for John Watson. This edition was published in 1900 in Chicago by W.B. Conkey Publishers. 

Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush is considered part of the so-called Kailyard (meaning cabbage patch or kitchen garden in Scots) School of writing, which was called such because critics felt the genre painted an overly sentimental picture of rural life. This book helped give the school its name, as it references a line from a traditional Scottish folk song that goes "There grows a bonnie brier bush in our Kailyard." Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush was very popular, selling over 700,000 copies. Publisher’s Weekly listed it as the bestselling novel of 1895 in the U.S. 

View more Publishers’ Binding Thursday posts.

-- Alice, Special Collections Department Manager

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday “Celebrity” Chef Nick Nairn, born January 12th 1959 in Stirling.

Nick grew up in the village of Port of Menteith and attended McLaren High School in Callander before joining the merchant navy at the age of 17 in 1976, serving as a navigator until 1983.

During his travels Nick developed a passion for food and the exotic dishes he’d experienced on his travels, and this proved to be the driving force behind his desire to teach himself to cook. In 1986 he opened his first restaurant, as an ambitious 27-year-old, at Braeval, near Aberfoyle, Stirlingshire, despite the fact he had never been to catering college, had never worked in a restaurant and had not been tutored by any chef.

Iwas a wise decision for Nick, it won him the Scottish Field and Bollinger Newcomer of the Year Award. Four years later he became the youngest chef to earn a Michelin star for his restauran, After this he went on to open Nairn’s restaurant in Glasgow in 1998 and a cook school in 2000 at Lake of Menteith. In 2003, he sold his restaurant in Glasgow to concentrate on the cookery school, although he also undertakes a range of corporate work.

Nick was awarded an honorary doctorate by the University of Stirling in 2007 for his contributions to Scottish cooking and healthy eating campaigns. He was awarded a second honorary doctorate from Abertay University in June 2016.

Just two weeks before the world shut down in the Spring of 2020 , Nick had opened his new restaurant, Nicks,  in the town of Bridge of Allan, where he now lives. As well as struggling through the pandemic the business was dealt another blow in the summer of 2021, when a fire badly damaged the building. 

Nairn insisted the restaurant “will be back” but at this stage there were “more questions than answers”.

“It was obviously quite serious,” he said. “A piece of kit had malfunctioned right in the middle of service and boiled over.

"The guys did their best to contain it but they lost control of it. Luckily they thought quickly - they turned off the gas and ventilation, got everybody out in I think less than 60 seconds and then the place just exploded.

According to Nicks Facebook page "Henderson Street, Bridge of Allan is progressing at pace now. We have a phenomenal shiny new kitchen which is causing some excitement amongst the chefs."

Nick certainly hasn't had his troubles to seek, his cook school at Port of Menteith was hit by a flood in 2021 but is also up and running again. We might shy away from places due to the price increases that every where haslately, but we have to think about the costs that businesses like Nick's have to absorb, he admits it's not easy;

“It would be easy to lay your head down and say it doesn't matter what we do, we're just gonna get stuffed at every turn. But we've always tried to look at the positive side of whatever it’s been - fire, flood or lockdown. We’re into the fourth crisis now, and it could potentially be bigger than anything - the cost of living for customers but also the price of running a business,” says Nick. “For instance, a month ago, lemon sole was £15 a kilo, while two weeks ago, it was £30 pounds a kilo. How are you meant to absorb that? Our energy bill here was £8000 a year, and it’s gone up to £24000”, and these comments were before the latest energy hike!

Nick also has other venues around the central belt including  The Kailyard by Nick Nairn in Dunblane, and Nick’s at Port of Menteith, he has also been on our screens along with Deacon Blue drummer Dougie Vipond in The Great Food Guys and was last on our screen just a week ago.

Happy Birthday Nick and best of luck in the future at Bridge of Allan and wherever else you show off your expertise.

[phoenixflames12]

An Endless Night- Chapter 4

April, 1941

At Lallybroch, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Fraser writes to her husband, not knowing if or when he will receive her letter but determined to keep the hope that he will return to them alive.

April, 1941

 Lallybroch, Scotland

 My dearest Jamie,

 It’s been two years. Two years, three months and seven hundred and thirty days since you were last on leave. Two years, three months and seven hundred and thirty days since you swung the children up in turn to kiss them goodbye and we clung to each other in a fog of smoke and farewell kisses as the train began to pull out of Inverness station, promising that we would be together before we knew it. Each morning I cross off another day on the calender, gaze at the clock above the kitchen sink and try to smile even though a little fragment of my heart is being chipped away.

 My love, I do not know if this letter will reach you and yet I sit in your study, surrounded by ghosts, the ghosts of children, of parents, of lives lived and loved and held in the very fabric this room and pick up your fountain pen, lying just as you left it, knowing that I must write something.

 Brianna still watches the window as often as I’ll let her. She waits like a patient dog with her hands often wrapped around Bran’s neck, gazing out into the kailyard, longing for your shadow to pass under the archway.

  It breaks my heart to see her so, to have to tell her yet again that there has been no official word, not yet. Often I’ll find Faith in here with the scrapbook that you helped her make when she was leaving school, or curled up with Willie in the wingbacked chair, the photograph taken at our wedding on her lap. Sometimes, I will wake to feel the ghost of your arm curled around my waist, the strength and glow of you pressed close, the love and life that streamed in from the stained glass windows at the church in Broch Morda as we said our vows. I remember the way you looked at me that day, a smile shining in eyes filled with love and protection and promise and pray that the day comes when we can look at each other the same way again.

 ‘That’s Da’, she’ll say, trying very hard to be brave and Willie will gaze up at her, with his eyes that are so very like yours, breaking my heart anew. I took him down to the main loch yesterday and we rowed out to the island and watched the kingfishers, sharp flashes of brilliant blue dazzling against the dappled leaves and the occasional brown trout breaching up for air.

 How I wish that you could be here to teach him the rudiments of your rods, to lie on the riverbank in the green quiet of a summer’s evening and show him the mysteries of tickling trout!

 A telegram from the Home Office came last week for Kirsty Fraser. Oh my darling, the hope that you were with Joe in his last moments makes the knowledge that we will never have him come stamping through the back kitchen with dogs and children in tow, never again hear you two descend into the warm, deep Gaelic of your childhods over a dram of whisky, that Mairi and Hector will grow up without their father, slightly easier bear.

 Is it selfish of me to think such things?

 Is it selfish of me to hold the children a little tighter each evening and pray that a piece of little yellow paper in a small, crisp enevelope never comes? That I never have to see the telegram boy, usually no older than Faith, scuffle his sharply polished boots in the gravel and refuse to meet my eyes?

 I don’t know.

 But what I do know is that you will come home. Soon.

 My love, we must believe it, because to live without belief is to live without a heart and I cannot do that. I will not do that.

 I love you.

 I’ll wait for you.

 We’ll wait for you.

 I remain forever,

 Your devoted wife,

 Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Fraser

 Lady Broch Tuarach

[gotham-ruaidh]

Shifted - Part 7, Chapter 1

In Shifted, the premise is simple - what if Claire had gotten pregnant with Brianna a month or two earlier in the story, and she and Jamie had re-evaluated  their priorities and decided that the cause was lost, and they were able to slip away from the army and quietly return to Lallybroch?

Previous installments…

Part 7 - The Visitor

Lallybroch, Autumn 1762

It was bright – mid-morning – and Claire had decided it was clean-up day.

 Or, time for a periodic review of the herbs, liquids, bandages, and other medicines in her surgery. A few years ago she’d finally moved out of Jamie’s study into her own room down the hall. It was really nothing more than a glorified store room – no bigger than the bathroom in her London flat many years before (hence?) – but it was all hers. Jamie had creatively built several shelves and cabinets to create an organized space to store her wares. And just enough room for two people to stand – usually her and a patient.

 But today Claire and Brianna shared the space. As Claire went through the various bottles and jars neatly stored in the shelves, she listed out the contents to Brianna, who recorded the name and quantity in one of Claire’s small ledgers. Then whatever she didn’t have they would gather outside in Claire’s small plot in the kailyard, or make a note of what Ian would fetch the next time he travelled to a city or village of some size.

 Claire needed to do this task – eventually – but she’d insisted on doing it today. She hadn’t had much time alone with her daughter since she’d shared her secret – of when she came from. Both children seemed to have taken it well – or as well as could be expected – but Claire wanted to give Brianna an opportunity to ask about it away from her father and brother.

 “Willow bark powder – two, no, three vials.”

 “Willow bark powder, three vials.” Brianna’s quill scratched softly.

 Claire shifted the stool further to the right. “All right – now we’ve got dandelion leaves, four packages. Actually, one is a bit moldy, so three packages.”

 “Aye, three packages.” A pause. “What do ye use that for?”

 “To relieve constipation.”

 Brianna snorted. “Ye’re always able to say things like that so…so matter-of-fact. Most folk would rather burn of embarrassment than say that straight out.”

 Claire grabbed the lantern and stepped off the stool to face her daughter. “And since when am I most folk, hmm?”

 Brianna raised one red eyebrow and smiled. “Since never. That’s why Da and William and I love ye so much, ken?”

 Claire smiled. “I ken.” She hesitated, then reached to take Brianna’s hand. “Do you have any questions about what we discussed the other day?”

 “About the stones, ye mean?”

 Claire nodded, and waited.

 Brianna pursed her lips, thoughtful. “It’s – it’s hard to believe, but I think things make a wee bit more sense now.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “Weel – William has told me that ye use words he’s never heard before, or read anywhere. And ye’re not like any other woman I’ve ever known – even Auntie Jenny. Da said that in your own time, women have a lot more freedoms?”

 “Yes. Women can own property, and become doctors, and vote for their government representatives. And choose whom to marry, and when to have children.”

 “Truly?” Brianna gaped. “Ye can choose all of those things?”

 Claire smiled. “Surely you know that most girls your age are out of school, married, or already have children of their own. Why do you think your father and I have always pushed for you to have an education? For you to marry for love, when you choose to, not because we forced you to?”

 Brianna nodded, processing. “I always thought ye wanted me do those things because ye’re both educated. And that ye’ve never pushed me to court or to marry because the two of you were – were forced to marry. Not that ye don’t love each other – ye do – but it wasn’t at the time ye wanted.”

 She squeezed her mother’s hand. “Da really respects you, doesn’t he?”

 Claire smiled. “Yes. We’re equal partners in our marriage – we always have been. We trust each other. We don’t make any decisions without consulting each other. Because in the very beginning, when there wasn’t very much love between us – there was respect. And honesty. And those two things have carried us through many a trial. So.” She rubbed her thumb against Brianna’s. “We want you to be a strong woman, a confident woman, who knows herself and isn’t afraid of men. Now we just have to find you a nice young lad who won’t piss himself at the prospect of courting you.”

 Brianna laughed. “Ye mean because Da won’t let any man get anywhere near me? Aye.” She looked down at their linked hands, and frowned. “What’s that on yer thumb?”

 Claire pulled her wrist back, but Brianna gripped her fingers. “Mama?”

 Claire sighed and held her hand out. Gently Brianna brought it closer to her face.

 “Is that – a J?” Brianna asked softly.

 “Yes.”

 “Did you do that?”

 “No. Your father did.”

 Her brows furrowed. “He did? Why?”

 “Because I asked him to.”

 Gently Brianna released her mother’s hand. “Why?”

 Claire licked her lips. “Honesty and respect have always been important between us. And love, of course. And touch.” She met Brianna’s gaze strongly.

 “I’ve never really spoken about this with anyone – except your father, of course. Please don’t share it with anyone else? Not even William?”

 Brianna nodded.

 Claire smiled slightly. “On our wedding night – your father was a virgin.”

 Brianna choked. “Truly?”

 Claire’s smile widened. “Yes. I was in a position to know, after all.”

 Brianna gulped. “Mama – really…”

 “He was so nervous. And I was – well. I hadn’t wanted to marry him, but there it was. And it was really difficult for us to speak to each other, it was very awkward between us.” She paused, eyes far away. “But we found out that if we touched each other – all that awkwardness went away. We let our bodies do the thinking for us, and then the rest just came naturally from that.” She paused. “So. When I feel his touch on me, and he feels my touch on him, that’s when we truly feel alive. And brave. And strong. And now I can always feel his touch on me. And he can always feel my touch on him.”

 “He marked himself, too?”

 Claire smiled. “No. I did.”

 Brianna shook her head. “The two of you, I swear. William says ye’re like the lads and lassies at one of Auntie Jenny’s gatherings, when the harvest’s in.”

 Claire smoothed back Brianna’s hair. “I look at him and I see the man I married, almost twenty years ago. My greatest prayer is for you to find a man who will look at you that same way, love. It truly is a great joy to spend your life with someone like that.”

 “So that’s why ye didn’t go back, then – because ye loved Da, and he loved you.”

 Claire nodded. “I didn’t say this in front of William, but – I wasn’t widowed when I came here. I had a husband, back in my own time.”

 “What? You what?” Brianna had to sit down on the other stool. “Ye had a husband? And ye left him?”

 Claire sighed. “I didn’t choose to leave him in the first place. So when I tried to go back through the stones, right at the beginning – it was because I was trying to get back to him. But then I married your father – and I fell in love.” She closed her eyes and continued. “Brianna – this will be hard for you to understand, but – I realized that my love for Jamie was – is - something much deeper, much more meaningful, than the love I had for my husband. Your father is truly selfless in his love for other people. He became the blood and bone in my body. I couldn’t leave him. I couldn’t. So.”

 Brianna nodded, processing. “And the second time – when he tried to send you away, when you were expecting me?”

 Claire sighed. “It was such a dangerous time. We’d barely escaped Culloden. And he was convinced that things would get really, really bad in the Highlands – and me being English would just make me a target. And he thought he couldn’t care for me – or for you – in the way we both deserved. So he wanted me to go back, to live with my first husband, to raise you in a safer time.”

 “But you chose to stay.”

 “Of course I chose to stay. I told him that I couldn’t live without my heart. He is my heart. And I couldn’t deny him the joy of you.”

 “Mama – ” Brianna choked.

 Claire’s eyes opened. Her heart stuttered once she saw the wetness on her daughter’s cheeks. Swiftly she gathered her into her arms, shushing her. Brianna settled her head on her mother’s shoulder, arms holding her tightly.

 “I feel so bad – I kept you from going home,” she sniffed.

 Claire ran a soothing hand up and down Brianna’s back. “Nonsense. I would have always chosen to stay. I couldn’t leave him. And I can’t even imagine leaving him now. Under any circumstance.”

 Brianna drew a deep breath, and let her mother hold her.

 “Mama?”

 “Hmm?”

 “There aren’t many men in this world like Da, are there?”

 Claire smiled. “No, love. There aren’t.”

 Brianna held her mother tighter. “How do I find one like him?”

 Claire gently pulled back and looked straight into her daughter’s eyes. “You will. He’ll come into your life when you least expect it. I should know.”

[kcrabb88]

I was thinking about your post about the criticism of the men in SBOS being too emotional this morning, and I think what the readers fail to grasp is that the characters in the source material are emotional. Victor Hugo and many other 18th century authors write their male characters as having emotions (get them to read Henry Mackenzie's The Man of Feeling (published: 1771) and any of the Scottish Kailyard school of literature to understand that that era of literature was full of weeping men!

Yes, thank you! It’s so true. All through 18th and 19th century literature there were men weeping in books. Heck the original Phantom of the Opera was published in something like 1911 but took place in the late 1800s and so Raoul cries! A lot! Heck my characters aren’t even crying much in the first two chapters and still I get “too mushy” because they’re being affectionate toward their kids and using terms of endearment?? So strange to me, but yes, there is a literary tradition of emotional male characters, you are so right. 

I also got frustrated at a couple of them telling me I needed “a hook” and that there isn’t enough “swashbuckling” in the beginning and I’m like “….things have to build?? Not every book throws you into a fight scene, though I know a lot of more modern ones tend to.” I dunno, I have a lot of plot! But the plot requires foundation! Apparently this is a classic lit thing more than a modern thing, so I’m being told, but it was a bit frustrating because one, I feel like people who read the fic version UNDERSTOOD what I was doing, and two, the others who have read the pages outside the group did not have the same problems. 

I mean this stuff wasn’t coming from the whole group, but it came from enough of them that I was bothered. 

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday “Celebrity” Chef Nick Nairn, born January 12th 1959 in Stirling.

Nick grew up in the village of Port of Menteith and attended McLaren High School in Callander before joining the merchant navy at the age of 17 in 1976, serving as a navigator until 1983.

During his travels as a navigator, Nick developed a passion for food and the exotic dishes he’d experienced on his travels, and this proved to be the driving force behind his desire to teach himself to cook. In 1986 he opened his first restaurant, which won him the Scottish Field and Bollinger Newcomer of the Year Award. Four years later he became the youngest chef to earn a Michelin star for his restaurant in Scotland.

After this he went on to open Nairn's restaurant in Glasgow in 1998 and a cook school in 2000 at Lake of Menteith. In 2003, he sold his restaurant in Glasgow to concentrate on the cookery school, although he also undertakes a range of corporate work.

Nick was awarded an honorary doctorate by the University of Stirling in 2007 for his contributions to Scottish cooking and healthy eating campaigns. He was awarded a second honorary doctorate from Abertay University in June 2016.

Just two weeks before the world shut down last March, Nick had opened his new restaurant, Nicks,  in the town of Bridge of Allan, where he now lives. As well as struggling through the pandemic the business was dealt another blow last summer when a fire badly damaged the building. 

Nairn insisted the restaurant "will be back" but at this stage there were "more questions than answers".

"It was obviously quite serious," he said. "A piece of kit had malfunctioned right in the middle of service and boiled over.

"The guys did their best to contain it but they lost control of it. Luckily they thought quickly - they turned off the gas and ventilation, got everybody out in I think less than 60 seconds and then the place just exploded.

"This is going to be a long haul - perhaps six to nine months but we are going to come back bigger, better and stronger." The damage to the restaurant wasn’t as bad as initially feared and was back open before too long, however the pandemic meant they have struggled with staff going down with the virus, and like all hospitality businesses will take a while to bounce back from this

Nick also has other venues around the central belt including  The Kailyard by Nick Nairn in Dunblane, and Nick’s at Port of Menteith, he has also been on our screens along with Deacon Blue drummer Dougie Vipond in The Great Food Guys.