Interesting huh–courtesy of the lovely CeeLee? William Wallace is a Highlander. Well, he’s Scots isn’t he? SO obviously he is a Highlander. Kilt wearing clans even live in the Borders.
So…you wanna write a book set in Scotland? I think being a native, I’m allowed to round off my It’s Scottish week, by giving yah my pet peeves.
Well, I showed Gerard once, I might as well do it again….I did once consider him as a muse for the Black Wolf after all, even if he never made the final cut. Hey Gerard….nice boots.
Highland clans did not live in the Borders. I know that’s really hard to believe when there are umpteen books that say they did. Highland Clans lived in the Highlands and were mainly regarded as savages by their Lowland Scottish neighbours on account of their pillaging, cattle-reiving activities. —Sorry Callm but they were– . Then along came the Irish from the famine and they were thought to be worse.
SO if your book is set in the Borders, or north England, pulease stop dragging in the Highlanders and planking them there for the Sassenach lassie to marry, unless they were marching with Bonnie Prince Charlie.
Not only did vicars and parsons not exist in 13th Century Scotland, they don’t exist in Scotland. Period. They’re English terms for English churchmen. Until the Reformation Scotland had priests, afterwards it was priests and ministers etc etc, etc, etc… eight. (Echt– that is Scots for eight which brings me to…)
which is half of eght. Gaelic was not spoken in the borders. Scots was spoken there. So can we also stop these English Regency dudes with Scottish estates barking out their commands in Gaelic the second they cross the border in their fancy carriages, or on horseback….thank you. Do you really want the locals scratching their heids and asking WTF is thon poncy Sassenach joker on aboot?
Well I did my best.
But I will be back…lucky you…. with Pirates.
As for who Turdygub was…well, it goes like this…..from His Judas Bride
Against the wishes of the Black Wolf of Lochalpin, Archibald Kelty, the late Lord Mhor McDunnagh’s most trusted bodyguard and friend, cordially invites you to the wedding…..
and Lord Ewen McDunnagh…chief of clan McDunnagh, the Black Wolf’s ‘Turdypused’ younger brother.
“Daddy’s got to go, sweetheart. Take the pretty lady to see Uncle…” He hesitated over the word Turdygub. That would be to bring further complaint from Meg down on his head in an already difficult situation. A situation where he was now going to have to take the chit to Turdygub. “…Ewen up at the castle. You be good. No more swearing. You promise me? Hmm?”
Fallon wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Because, sweetheart, if you’re not—”
He ruffled her hair before setting her down. His boots seemed to echo for an eternity across the flagstones, past the stag heads watching dully from their mounts on the draped walls, the pewter shining on the dresser. The thing was, despite all he’d said he hadn’t expected her to march in here and call him out in front of his men. So now he had no choice but to saddle Satan, didn’t he? So then, tonight, if not before, she and Ewen… Turdypus, not gub…
Christ, what the hell was wrong with him?
To love, honor, and betray…