This week has been a mad one. Close to the start of the Christmas period, we found out that Mum would be having a thyroidectomy on Candlemas (the final day of the Christmas season). Of course, this was not enough to spoil Christmas. As readers of this blog are no doubt aware, Christmas happens in a big way in this house. But when the day finally arrived it was nonetheless met with, if not fear, definite nervousness. I'm pleased to say that the procedure seems to have been a great success! And wouldn't it have been? Thyroid treatment has been developing for over four thousand years. You know me - somewhat obsessed with putting doctors, nurses, physicians and surgeons in my historical fiction - I made a (very brief) wander into the realms of researching the topic. I was surprised by the results. The earliest I could find a reference to treatments for thyroid issues (in this instance a goitre) came in 2697BC, when the legendary Yellow Emperor recorded the use of seaweed in treati...
I once answered a call for submissions based on ghost stories of my local area. Now, the funny thing with Caithness is: most people seem to believe in - and many people will share stories about how they've witnessed - supernatural happenings around the county. However, there aren't many well-known stories.
Of course, there's the standard young-maiden-falling-out-of-castle-window story for at least two of the castles up here, and there's the eerie story of the man whose brother locked him up in Castle Sinclair Girnigoe with no food. Both characters feature in Caithness ghost stories.
But it's high time someone actually explored the individual's ghost stories. In fact, that's something I might do, if I ever actually get sufficient time on my hands! Where are the stories which are connected to the "ordinary" buildings? We've been sharing our Stempster Spectres in our monthly newsletters and, believe me, there are plenty of those!
A little further research of the scant amount which is already out there, and I discovered that there is an urban legend attached to the building of homes for those brought to the area in 1955 to work at the new nuclear site: Dounreay. Now, this tale has gaps and very little proof that it is true, but it still struck a chord with me. I won't tell you it in detail as that would ruin the story, but it has a very M.R. James-esque concept of taking something which doesn't belong to you and subsequently paying the price.
I didn't realise when I chose to include Ay Atomics in this book that it would be released during Dounreay's anniversary year, but that feels like an exciting coincidence.
And, finally, for anyone wondering - "ay Atomics" was what the native Caithnessians called those who came up to the far north of Scotland to work at the nuclear site. Many of them settled and never moved back south: their grandchildren and great-grandchildren are classed as Caithnessians in their own right now.
[You can read Judith's earlier Gothic Horror blog posts here]
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