Ùrachadh mu Dheireadh 08/11/2017
Google pluspinterestShare on Stumble UponShare on RedditFacebookShare on Tumblr
TIOTAL
'The Blackberry Day'
EXTERNAL ID
AB_LL_ROSAMUNDE_PILCHER
ÀITE
Dòrnach
SIORRACHD/PARRAIST
CATAIBH: Dòrnach
DEIT
2008
LINN
2000an
CRUTHADAIR
Rosamunde Pilcher
NEACH-FIOSRACHAIDH
Am Baile
AITHNEACHADH MAOINE
1440
KEYWORDS
claistinneach
cruthan-tìre litreachais

Get Adobe Flash player

Tha a' chuibhreann chlaistinneach seo on chruinneachadh de sgeulachdan beaga aig Rosamunde Pilcher, 'Flowers in the Rain and Other Stories', foillsichte an toiseach ann an 1991. Tha e air a leughadh an seo le Cindie Reiter,

'At Inverness she alighted from the train into a climate so different that the night train could have carried not only north, but abroad. The day was Saturday, the month September, and she had left London on an evening warm as June, the air muggy and stale, the sky overcast. But now she walked out into a world that glittered in the early light and was arched by a high and cloudless sky of pale and pristine blue. It was much colder. There was the nip of frost in the air and leaves on trees were already turning autumn gold.

Here she had an hour or two to wait for the small stopping train that would carry her, through the morning, even further north. She filled this in by going to the nearest hotel and eating breakfast, and then walked back to the station. The news-stand had opened, so she bought a magazine and made her way to the platform where the smaller train waited, already gradually filling with passengers. She found a seat, stowed her luggage, and was almost at once joined by a pleasant-faced woman who settled herself across the table in the seat opposite. She wore a tweed coat with a Cairngorm brooch in the lapel and a furry green felt hat. As well as her zipped overnight bag, she was burdened by a number of plastic shopping bags, one of which contained what looked like a hefty picnic.

Their eyes met across the table. Claudia smiled politely. The woman said, "Oh, my, what a cold morning. I had to wait for the bus. My feet turned to stone."

"Yes, but it's lovely."

"Oh, aye, good and fine. Anything's better than the rain, I always say." A whistle blew, doors slammed. "There we are, we're off. Sharp on time, too. Are you going far?"

Claudia, who had picked up her magazine, resigned herself to conversation and laid it down again.

"Lossdale."

"That's where I'm bound, too. I've been down for a night or two, staying with my sister. For the shopping, you know. They've a lovely Marks and Spencers. Bought a shirt for my husband. Are you staying in Lossdale?"

She was not curious, simply interested. Claudia told her, "Yes, just for a week." And the, because it was obvious that she would be asked, she volunteered the information. "At Inverloss, with my cousin, Jennifer Drysdale."

"Jennifer! Oh, I know her well, we're on the Rural together. Stitching new kneelers for the Kirk. Funny she never mentioned the fact that you were coming."

"It was very much a last-minute arrangement."

"Is this your first visit?"

"No. I used to come up every summer when I was young. When her parents were alive, and before Jennifer inherited the farm."

"Do you live in the south?"

"Yes, in London."

"I thought so. By your clothes." The train was rattling over the bridge, the firth spread below them, stretching from the far western hills to the sea. She saw small boats going about their business, delectable houses facing out over the water with gardens sloping down to the shore. "I came up last night on the sleeper."

Rugadh Rosamunde Pilcher, nee Scott, ann an Lelant, Cornwall, ann an 1924. Fhuair i foghlam ann am Penzance agus ann an Cardiff mus do rinn i seirbheis leis na Wrens aig àm an Dàrna Cogaidh. Ann an 1946 phòs i Graham Pilcher agus ghluais iad gu Dùn Deagh far an robh e fhèin na cheannard aig factaraidh jute an teaghlaich. Thog i teaghlach de cheathrar agus tha 14 oghaichean aice. Tha taigh samhraidh aice ann an Dòrnach, àite far an do shuidhich i cuid de na stòiridhean aice.

Tràth na dreuchd sgrìobhaidh rinn Rosamunde Pilcher sgeulachdan romansach fon ainm Seonag Fhriseal. Thàinig a cliù ann an 1987 nuair a chaidh 'The Shell Seekers' fhoillseachadh, leabhar a chuir Tom Wolfe o mhullach liosta New York 1990 nan leabhraichean as fheàrr gan reic. On àm sin tha i air a bhith am measg nan sgrìobhadairean boireann as soirbheachaile an là. Tha barrachd air 70 de a sgeulachadan air a dhol air telebhisean sa Ghearmailt. Leig i dhith a dreuchd sgrìobhaidh ann an 2000 agus choisinn i OBE ann an 2002.

Tha nobhailean Pilcher a' faighinn cliù airson cho math, mionaideach 's a tha i a' cur thairis dhan leughadair na h-àiteachan brèagha far a bheil a sgeulachdan air an suidheachadh. Tha 'September' agus 'Wild Mountain Thyme' air an suidheachadh ann an Alba agus tha an obair le dealbhan, 'The World of Rosamunde Pilcher', a' sealltainn na tìre a bhrosnaich a sgrìobhadh. 'S ann mu Dhòrnach a tha an dàrna caibideil, 'My Second Home'.

Airson stiùireadh mu bhith a’ cleachdadh ìomhaighean agus susbaint eile, faicibh duilleag ‘Na Cumhaichean air Fad.’
’S e companaidh cuibhrichte fo bharantas clàraichte ann an Alba Àir. SC407011 agus carthannas clàraichte Albannach Àir. SC042593 a th’ ann an High Life na Gàidhealtachd.
Powered by Capture

'The Blackberry Day'

CATAIBH: Dòrnach

2000an

claistinneach;; cruthan-tìre litreachais

Am Baile

Literary Landscapes: Rosamunde Pilcher

Tha a' chuibhreann chlaistinneach seo on chruinneachadh de sgeulachdan beaga aig Rosamunde Pilcher, 'Flowers in the Rain and Other Stories', foillsichte an toiseach ann an 1991. Tha e air a leughadh an seo le Cindie Reiter,<br /> <br /> 'At Inverness she alighted from the train into a climate so different that the night train could have carried not only north, but abroad. The day was Saturday, the month September, and she had left London on an evening warm as June, the air muggy and stale, the sky overcast. But now she walked out into a world that glittered in the early light and was arched by a high and cloudless sky of pale and pristine blue. It was much colder. There was the nip of frost in the air and leaves on trees were already turning autumn gold.<br /> <br /> Here she had an hour or two to wait for the small stopping train that would carry her, through the morning, even further north. She filled this in by going to the nearest hotel and eating breakfast, and then walked back to the station. The news-stand had opened, so she bought a magazine and made her way to the platform where the smaller train waited, already gradually filling with passengers. She found a seat, stowed her luggage, and was almost at once joined by a pleasant-faced woman who settled herself across the table in the seat opposite. She wore a tweed coat with a Cairngorm brooch in the lapel and a furry green felt hat. As well as her zipped overnight bag, she was burdened by a number of plastic shopping bags, one of which contained what looked like a hefty picnic.<br /> <br /> Their eyes met across the table. Claudia smiled politely. The woman said, "Oh, my, what a cold morning. I had to wait for the bus. My feet turned to stone."<br /> <br /> "Yes, but it's lovely."<br /> <br /> "Oh, aye, good and fine. Anything's better than the rain, I always say." A whistle blew, doors slammed. "There we are, we're off. Sharp on time, too. Are you going far?"<br /> <br /> Claudia, who had picked up her magazine, resigned herself to conversation and laid it down again.<br /> <br /> "Lossdale."<br /> <br /> "That's where I'm bound, too. I've been down for a night or two, staying with my sister. For the shopping, you know. They've a lovely Marks and Spencers. Bought a shirt for my husband. Are you staying in Lossdale?"<br /> <br /> She was not curious, simply interested. Claudia told her, "Yes, just for a week." And the, because it was obvious that she would be asked, she volunteered the information. "At Inverloss, with my cousin, Jennifer Drysdale."<br /> <br /> "Jennifer! Oh, I know her well, we're on the Rural together. Stitching new kneelers for the Kirk. Funny she never mentioned the fact that you were coming."<br /> <br /> "It was very much a last-minute arrangement."<br /> <br /> "Is this your first visit?"<br /> <br /> "No. I used to come up every summer when I was young. When her parents were alive, and before Jennifer inherited the farm."<br /> <br /> "Do you live in the south?"<br /> <br /> "Yes, in London."<br /> <br /> "I thought so. By your clothes." The train was rattling over the bridge, the firth spread below them, stretching from the far western hills to the sea. She saw small boats going about their business, delectable houses facing out over the water with gardens sloping down to the shore. "I came up last night on the sleeper."<br /> <br /> Rugadh Rosamunde Pilcher, nee Scott, ann an Lelant, Cornwall, ann an 1924. Fhuair i foghlam ann am Penzance agus ann an Cardiff mus do rinn i seirbheis leis na Wrens aig àm an Dàrna Cogaidh. Ann an 1946 phòs i Graham Pilcher agus ghluais iad gu Dùn Deagh far an robh e fhèin na cheannard aig factaraidh jute an teaghlaich. Thog i teaghlach de cheathrar agus tha 14 oghaichean aice. Tha taigh samhraidh aice ann an Dòrnach, àite far an do shuidhich i cuid de na stòiridhean aice. <br /> <br /> Tràth na dreuchd sgrìobhaidh rinn Rosamunde Pilcher sgeulachdan romansach fon ainm Seonag Fhriseal. Thàinig a cliù ann an 1987 nuair a chaidh 'The Shell Seekers' fhoillseachadh, leabhar a chuir Tom Wolfe o mhullach liosta New York 1990 nan leabhraichean as fheàrr gan reic. On àm sin tha i air a bhith am measg nan sgrìobhadairean boireann as soirbheachaile an là. Tha barrachd air 70 de a sgeulachadan air a dhol air telebhisean sa Ghearmailt. Leig i dhith a dreuchd sgrìobhaidh ann an 2000 agus choisinn i OBE ann an 2002. <br /> <br /> Tha nobhailean Pilcher a' faighinn cliù airson cho math, mionaideach 's a tha i a' cur thairis dhan leughadair na h-àiteachan brèagha far a bheil a sgeulachdan air an suidheachadh. Tha 'September' agus 'Wild Mountain Thyme' air an suidheachadh ann an Alba agus tha an obair le dealbhan, 'The World of Rosamunde Pilcher', a' sealltainn na tìre a bhrosnaich a sgrìobhadh. 'S ann mu Dhòrnach a tha an dàrna caibideil, 'My Second Home'.