Wednesday, 20 June 2007

You ask for it....

I took a poll from among my faithful and kind readers. You told me you want to know more about when I first met John, and more stories of Morocco. Here is Part I of I think three or four, let me know what you think. More?

I was twelve when I first saw him. He was standing in the foyer of the Castle Dunvegan on the Isle of Skye in his U.S. Navy dress whites. Six-two, hair like black silk, eyes so blue they could have been taken from the depths of the North Sea. He had a twisted scar running down the corner of his right cheek. I thought he looked like the embodiment of every hero in every myth I had ever read; and then he turned, and I recognized him. This is the man I would marry. This was the man who had always been destined for me; albeit apparently he had decided to be born a bit early. He was thirty-two years old.

I think we need concede up front I was not your “normal” twelve-year-old. I had grown up in a solitary childhood with only servants, nanny, and governess for play, and old men for company (old when you are twelve is quite unlike the definition when you are fifty eh?). I had already traveled three continents and lived in cultures as diverse as Paris and Lhasa. I may have missed out on mom, dad, big brother sam, a dog named spot, and the house with a white picket fence, but I had a castle complete with dungeon to explore and spiritual teachings from a man who traced his incarnations back to the third Dali Lama. Many, many years later my own child would ask me, “Didn’t you think your life was strange?”.

The answer being , “No it was my life, to me that was normal.”

“But didn’t you ever want a “normal” life. Like everyone in my class at school wants to live in a castle. Did you ever want to live in a regular house?”

“Actually yes I did. I remember I went through a time when I thought the grandest thing in the world must be to live in a little cottage with a regular family, but I got over it. The more I learned about other people’s “normal” lives, the more grateful I was for mine.”

The terms of my life made it not as shocking perhaps that I would come to such a decision concerning my future husband at such an age; but then I don’t know perhaps it is normal for more people than I know, or mayhap it is genetic, as my daughter began dating her husband to be when they were both thirteen – a little behind, but it was another century after all.

For the next four years I knew I had no chance as a “girl”, given the whole child-bride issue; so I would dazzle him with my brains! I did this, of course, by picking a fight every time he came to the castle – can we tell I am a full blooded Scot? No matter what side he took on an issue, I would take the opposing side – just so I could show off. His condescension did not aid in the banking of my temper; fortunately he came to realize I considered conversation a blood sport. It did not aid in his coming to see me as a possible romantic conquest.

The year of the ‘big change’, going from fifteen to sixteen; he was nowhere to be seen. I lost my buck teeth to the advancement of dentistry, the hairdresser tamed my frizzy mop into romantic curls, and I got a body – a real grown-up body with a butt and some breasts. Very exciting stuff that was.

Part I


wakeupandsmellthecoffee said...

I love your daughter's question, "Didn't you think your life was a bit strange?" A question only daughters can ask. Anyone else would say what a fantastic, wonderful life you've had. I can't wait to read Part II.

I Beatrice said...

Oh, but there's a thrilling story unfolding here! Please don't move on too quickly to adulthood though - tell us something about that little girl living in a castle with all those grownups first!

But omigod, there's a problem for me here, you know! {And this is an aside, strictly for you. Because I too shall be writing about a castle in Scotland! Only mine will be an imagined one - and a glance at my blog will assure anyone who thinks I'm trying to copy or upstage you, that I did in fact mention mine before I'd ever heard of yours! Had it not been for that, I might have had to abandon it now.}

Not that it will matter in the long run of course - since what is a fictional castle when compared with a real one? Ah.h.h.h. is all I can say just now though...

Brillig said...

Oh, I'm loving this! You've got us completely hooked already. I can't wait for the next installment!

marymaryquitecontrary said...

I am reading 'I Capture the Castle', by Dodie Smith at the moment. Have you read it? That Castle was drafty and cold,not at all like yours I am sure. Looking forward to reading Part 2.

Omega Mum said...

I agree with I Beatrice. What was he doing in the Castle - who had invited him?

scarlettscion said...

YOU grow up with your mother telling you she grew up without parents, but with a bunch of old men, and we'll see what you say!

Mopsa said...

Definitely more please!

lady macleod said...


She had a point didn't she (as we all note below..:-) It was a fairy tale in many ways, but like fairy tales it had its share of monsters and tragedy as well as bliss. Here toward the last bit, I will say the bliss has won the lion's share. I am glad you are enjoying it. thank you for coming by.

i beatrice

Oh my darling beatrice I think there are castles aplenty in Britain are they no? We are lousy with castles, got them lying about the place, what people really long for is a bungalow. (Eddie Izzard)
"copy or upstage you"... you go right ahead! I read your blog you know, that's my entertainment you are speaking of there. I hardley think you need be copying me! I just can't see American Naval uniforms in that story, but on the other hand...
I think the big difference between the fictional and concrete are the drafts! and the nasty rodent creatures that make skurring noises during the long cold nights. ewww!
thanks for coming by, and you keep writing.


I am seriously considering hiring you and jenny on as public relations people you know. Think you can get me invited to the Beckham's soire'e? If we can get Oprah to read my stories I'm set! Thank you and thank you for coming by.


No, I don't know that author. I am reading Parallel Worlds by Michio Kaku. Is "I Capture the Castle" good? romance? adventure?
I have yet to be in any castle that is not cold and drafty, perhaps the American ones? The ones in the Highlands have horizontal rain you know and the North Sea as beach front property...not really warm and fuzzy. I am glad you enjoyed Part I, and thank you for coming by.

omega mum

Now THAT is a much longer story... thank you for coming by.


Absolutely!! It's not so very much fun having such a weird mum is it?

lady macleod said...


yeahsureyoubetcha! Thank you for coming by.

jenny said...

How I would love to meet you in person and pick your brain! I am always asking my mom for stories from when she was gorwing up, in a 4 room house with no running water. Summers on a farm while her Mom was a maid for 2 brothers.... So far from living in a castle, but her stories were just as fascinating!

Amazing how you knew at 12 that he was the one you were going to marry! I am curious as to how you two finally connected! You've got me hooked!

I'll happily work public relations for you!! :o)

The Good Woman said...

And to think I saw your castle just two weeks ago. They were filming something big up there. Your life story perhaps?

KarenO said...

OK. It's official. I'm totally, absolutely addicted to your blog! I also would like to know how John came to the castle... pleeeeeease don't forget to answer that one for us :)

lady macleod said...


I think all the family stories of us each one are fascinating in their own way. It is after all those stories that weave the fabric of history. Who knows some day we may meet?

I am pleased you are enjoying it, and thank you for coming by.

good woman

Oh his Lordship is always having the BBC up to film something. He tried selling the Black Hills you know! Talk about your white elephant! I am reasonably certain it was ought to do with me.
thank you for coming by.

lady macleod said...


addiction is good:-) Alright I shall, I had not intended it as that is a MUCH longer story, but all right.
thank you for coming by.

Kaycie said...

I cannot imagine being so sure of your future husband at the tender age of twelve. I didn't choose well until I was 29!

lady macleod said...


I admit it was unusual, but fortunately it was the right call. I am so amazed that Q has had a similar experience. She and A started 'dating" (talking on the phone) at thirteen and they marry next summer.
thank you for coming by.

jmb said...

Well this looks like a good series shaping up Lady Mac. Does everyone know about your strange childhood? Where do I catch up? Well maybe all will be clear later.

Melody said...

Wonderful, I can't wait to read more. As a little girl I dreamed of living in a castle...but don't we all? Except you, of course. :)

Well done. Give us more.

I Beatrice said...

So did the Queen, you know! Identify her husband at about the age of 12, that is...

(I forgot to say yesterday btw, that it seems to me there's just a hint of Emma and Mr Knightly in this romance.)

lady macleod said...


Good I'm glad you think one knows anything you don't know and we all know that. this is new data..a la Sharazade. thank you for coming by.


thank you, I am pleased you are enjoying it. We all dream what we don't have.. thank you for coming by.

i beatrice

I have no idea...she said. REally? But Emma was such a busy body..all right but only if I get to look like Gwenneth Paltrow. There was that older/teacher status for certain...but it took me a long time to give him any romantic ideas!

pluto said...

This is great, and thanks for responding to what we said we wanted in your poll -- I must admit I voted more than once for this!

lady macleod said...


thank you and thank you for coming by you ole romantic soul you!

debio said...

I'm late, I'm late! Part II is already posted - but lucky me. Going there right now.....

Andres Carl Sena said...

no more miss nice girl, fighting with just words, you gotta grow a butt and some breasts, completely unfair.