Another year is drawing to a close, so it is time to sign off for the festive period. I hope you have enjoyed the posts and stories, and I'm looking forward to returning in the new year with more Historical Fiction madness! In the meantime, I hope you all have a magical Christmas and a fun-filled New Year. Remember, the world is better with stories, so here are a few Historical Fiction stories from the Crowvus authors! Free Reads: A Silent Romance Amongst Words If We Promised Them Aught, Let Us Keep Our Promise Invention, Nature's Child My Mother's Eyes to See, My Father's Hand to Guide Of All the Pleasant Sights They See The Calling of Aonghas Caledon The Clockmaker The Fishwife's Lullaby The Mermaid of the Aegean The Skjoldmø and The Seer The Triumph of Maxentius The Weave of the Norns #KindleUnlimited: Alternate Endings Masterworks To Wear a Heart So White See you in 2025!
Virginia Crow (author of Day's
Dying Glory) at Innerpeffray
Library
|
I’m not sure what it was about my last holiday that made it
so special. Whether it was because it was intertwined with the Day’s Dying
Glory book launch event at Innerpeffray Library, or because I needed a rest
from all my responsibilities, or that it was just an amazing place to stay…I
really loved last week’s holiday!
The cottage was The Old Post Office on Dunalistair Estate
and we had booked it from Saturday to Saturday. The road to the cottage was
bumpy and bendy which, being a non-driver, I didn’t mind a bit. In fact, it
seemed to add to the whole experience. Once at the cottage, I realised what an astonishing
view we would have for the next 7 days. The cottage looked out across an open
field, over Dunalistair Water and to Schiehallion beyond. On clear days, you could
see the whole mountain which stood quite close to the cottage. Once every day,
however, the mountain top would be covered by mist that would make you thankful
you weren’t climbing the imposing natural structure!
The view from the front door |
The wildlife was a treat! We get the chaffinches and siskins
at home but watching the red squirrels stealing the bird food was stunning for
me. The only time I’ve seen red squirrels that close before is at the Highland
Wildlife Park and it seems to lose a little something when they are not 100%
wild. The strange little acrobats that the squirrels would perform were so
hilarious and so adorable, I could watch them for hours.
While I maintain that pheasants are some of the most stupid
birds in existence, their beauty and grandeur cannot be denied. I miss waking
up to the sound of pheasants barking outside my window. It’s quite a magical
sound!
Orlando, our spaniel, went mad for the deer! When we would
walk him along the path through the field, he would see one or two roe deer
running away and scream his head off while pulling on the lead with all his
might…and can he be strong when he really wants to!!
Writers all take their inspiration from different things. It
could be a cup of tea made the wrong way, an overheard conversation on the
street, and painting in the window of a shop. For me, and I think many others,
nature gives a wealth of inspiration. Therefore, I found my holiday in
Perthshire food for my creativeness.
But the one thing that really charged me up creatively was
Thornfield Hall. Along the track from where we were staying, was the old
Dunalistair house, or Mount Alexander – only, it was a stripped shell of a house.
Most of the roof had gone, all the glass in the windows had gone, and there
were even trees growing from the rooms inside. The moment I saw it from the
driveway, I instantly thought of Thornfield Hall from Jane Eyre – after the
fire.
"Thornfield Hall" |
One of the most enjoyable, and inspirational, things about
the house was that I never saw anyone else there. It was on a working estate
and I saw a couple of cars going up the track towards it but all the time we
were around the house, we had the place completely to ourselves. Alone with our
thoughts, the creation of stories in my mind was on overload.
There were several other inspirational moments during the
holiday. The sheer age and pure history of Fortingall Yew – a living tree that
is 2000-3000 years old – really called out to my imagination when I considered
just how much this tree had witnessed in its drawn-out life. There’s an epic
there…waiting to be written. Anyone want to take up the challenge?
On the Friday – the last day of the holiday – we went to
Killiecrankie. As we stood beneath the viaduct, a train went overhead. We heard
it rattling along the track above us. In the few seconds that I had available
to make a wish, I couldn’t think of anything that I wanted to wish for. That, I
told myself, was a sign of true contentment. At the last second, I remembered
that this was only a holiday, and I made my wish. I’ll see if it comes true.
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