Scotlander, page 32
Despite having been to Scotland many times to pick raspberries for some epically delicious jam, I have yet to participate in a huge potato harvest. Most are (if not all) mechanised nowadays. But into the 1980s, Scottish tatties were harvested by hand, by school children. To any farmers who read this and despair at my limited grasp of harvesting, please forgive me. The mistakes are, obviously, my own. I didnae ken!
There are no direct flights from Portland to Glasgow. That is pure fiction (a girl can dream!).
And now to the thanks. First to my editor, muchas gracias to Victoria Pepe for loving this book when it was just a twinkly elevator pitch in my eye. Gratitude as well for championing it (and me) when the odd attack of writer’s doubt crept in. You are a joy to work with. My heartfelt thanks to Salma Begum. You’re an aurora borealis of editorial guidance and this book wouldn’t be what it is today without you. Thanks as well to the entire editorial team at Lake Union Publishing. Melissa Hyder, Swati Gamble, Victoria Oundjian, Nicole Wagner et al, you are a wonderous lot with magnifying glass skills at spotting errors I completely missed. I am your humble servant. Thanks as well to Nicole Wager and the PR and marketing folk who are an amazing bunch.
To Cressy McLaughlin, whose emails full of cheerleading and encouragement were the wind beneath my wings during some choppy weather. To Michelle Kem, for reading a very rough and ready draft. It was akin to offering you a barn dance but handing you a pitchfork and saying, ‘You don’t mind a wee bit of tidying beforehand, do you?’ To Annie, Chantal, Michelle and Pam, for reading and reminding me which Scottish and British lingo translates on the far side of the pond. To my wonderful sister-in-law Kymberley, for her ideas and brainstorming powers. Particularly the kilt-wearing housekeepers. They didn’t make this cut, but can I just say . . . Adelaide, you must be one magical city. To Debbie Macomber, whose support is an undimmable 100-watt bulb. A big bouncy castle’s worth of thanks to Al, Ruth, Janet, Kate, Jeev and Immi. You are powerhouses of encouragement and support. To my sister, Michelle, whose encouraging emails regularly remind me that super brainy scientists need escapism as much as anyone else. To all of the fans whose passion made this idea possible. I’ve met some of you in real life and have zero doubt you would answer a cry for help from a Scotsman in need.
Heart-pumping thanks to my own Scotlander, the initial inspiration for it all. You may not have come from farming stock, but you didn’t let that stand in the way of believing we could do it. You are McSexy in (and out) of a kilt and recalling that first time you said, ‘Och, away, don’t be daft, woman,’ still gives me butterflies. When you said six-thirrrrrrrrty about five seconds later I knew I was done for. (The fact that you’re kind, honourable and drive a tractor like a primo ballerino also helps). Thank you for taking my hand and leading me into a whole new world. Thanks to our Belted Galloway cows and to the hounds, Skye and Harris, who accompanied me on every single plot walk. You are all McMarvellous and I love you. But most of all, thank you to Scotland, the foundation of so much inspiration, beauty and splendour. You are an incredible land and, in the words of Dolly Parton, I will always love you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sheila McClure lives in the English countryside with her Scottish husband, their dogs, Harris and Skye, and a small herd of delightfully striped Belted Galloway cattle. Prior to rural life in the UK, she was a camerawoman and news producer for Associated Press Television. As she’s originally from Seattle, she began her working life as a barista. She has also written books as Annie O’Neil and Daisy Tate. She will never refuse a quality dill pickle.
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Sheila McClure, Scotlander
