Mastodon The Writing Desk: A Very Kindred Christmas: A Special Guest Post by Jennifer C. Wilson, Author of Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile #HistoryWritersAdvent24

11 December 2024

A Very Kindred Christmas: A Special Guest Post by Jennifer C. Wilson, Author of Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile #HistoryWritersAdvent24


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The bestselling Kindred Spirits series continues...  Along Edinburgh’s historic Royal Mile, royalty and commoners – living and dead – mingle amongst the museums, cafés and former royal residences. From Castle Hill to Abbey Strand, there is far more going on than meets the eye, as ghosts of every era and background make their home along the Mile.

Do ghosts celebrate Christmas? It might not be a question you’ve pondered much before, but the Kindred Spirits gang certainly do!  

When I started writing the Kindred Spirits series, I knew I wanted to have fun whilst doing so, and as a huge Christmas fan, that meant bringing the festive season into the mix. Now, I’m very aware that my Kindred Spirit ghosts are from many different eras, and the modern Christmas would be rather alien to the way they celebrated during their lives, but honestly, that’s part of the fun for me. Having the ghosts exist in the world for centuries in most cases means they’ve got used to new ways of celebrating Christmas, and actively embrace it in many ways.

One of my favourite Kindred Spirits scenes is in Kindred Spirits: Royal Mile, where a particular style of hat is acquired, so I thought I’d share it with you today…

Once winter began to take a firmer hold on Edinburgh (and in truth, almost immediately after Hallowe’en had been fully cleared away), thoughts began to turn to the next great celebration: Christmas. The pumpkins and fake cobwebs were long gone, and had been smoothly replaced weeks previously with Santas, reindeers and fake snow (sometimes, the ghosts were convinced, people simply sprinkled silver glitter into the fake cobwebs, and left them up as snow, to save the hassle of redecorating; it was just as effective, after all).
    The city began to sparkle with fairy-lights, shining out from every shop window, as shops and attractions battled with themselves and each other to determine when the best time was to go ‘all out,’ and throw themselves wholeheartedly into the Christmas celebrations. The Castle tended to move more slowly than some, keeping itself safely the right side of the ‘tacky’ line, ensuring that those not so keen on the festival would still feel at home in the place. The shops of the Mile had no such qualms. By the end of November, celebrations were in full swing, and now the court had resumed its normal home at the Castle, everyone was in a jovial mood.
    “Sir William! Lady Glamis! What on earth are you wearing?” Mary demanded of them, bent over with laughter as she and Queens Marie and Madeleine welcomed them into the Castle’s great hall one evening, long after the last visitor of the day had left. “And, more to the point, how did you get it here?”
The two had entered the room in fits of giggles themselves, knowing what Queen Mary’s reaction would be to their attire, but hoping it would continue to cheer her after the Darnley situation; they had caught her almost every day, watching out over the rooftops, clearly the same thing on her mind. Even through the giggles, Janet had been gladdened at the sight of the two French Queens, helping their third member feel more cheered.
    Atop Janet and William’s heads were the most garish of Loch Ness Monster hats, but not just any ordinary Nessie. This Nessie daringly clashed the bright green of her skin with an equally bright red Santa hat, trimmed in glistening white fur, and topped with sparkling tinsel.
    “It gets better,” said Janet, reaching up to William’s hat, and squeezing Nessie’s nose teasingly. In a high-pitched squeal, the hat started to sing We Wish You a Merry Christmas at full volume, pushing all of them over the edge into hysteria.
    “I want one!” shrieked Mary, laughing at Marie and Madeleine’s faces at the thought of a Queen of Scotland wearing such an item. “Come now, it’s perfect, surely you see that?”
Marie shook her head at her daughter. “I did not raise you as a Queen of France and Scotland for you to demean yourself in such attire. If you ask me honestly, I think it far below even Lady Janet and Sir William.” Nose in the air, she turned her face away from the group, looking pointedly towards the window.
    The couple in question had now started dancing to the musical hats, the noise attracting more of the ghosts into the Hall. Most of them started laughing and joining in, forming pairs as they went. Noble ladies fell about laughing, accepting the hands of prisoners of war and soldiers, as noblemen wandered in, bemused at the sight.
    “I fear, Lady Mother, that you are outnumbered in your opinion,” replied Mary, happily accepting the offered hand of one of the more handsome prisoners, as he nervously approached her, eyebrows raised questioningly.
    “And now you dance with common soldiers!” Queen Marie tutted, as her daughter accepted the request, but even she was beginning to be sucked into the moment of merriment, her dainty, silk-slippered foot starting to move in time to the music.
    “It is catching,” said Madeleine, glancing at the older woman with a smile.
    “Oh, I hate it when others prove me wrong,” said Marie, throwing her shoulders down in frustration.          “Come, then, Madeleine, what is good enough for the goose is good enough for the gander – shall we join them?”
    The two royal ladies linked arms and moved into the centre of the room, joining the whirling mass of bodies, each pair attempting to dance to the tuneless rendition, ages and classes clashing in the dancing styles down the ages, not a single pair appropriately matched in terms of era. Finally, Mary broke away from her lowly prisoner, and clasped hands with the newly-arrived Sir Thomas, who was gazing about the room, shaking his head in disbelief, until he saw Mary in the middle of celebrations.
    “Are we celebrating anything in particular, Your Grace?” he asked her, as he spun her around, before lifting her up by the waist.
    “William’s and Janet’s hats, Thomas. Nothing more than that, I’m afraid, but I rather think it was all we needed.”

I hope you find your symbolic Nessie hat this festive season, and have a wonderful time!

Jennifer C. Wilson


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About the Author

Jennifer C. Wilson is a marine biologist by training, who developed an equal passion for history whilst stalking Mary, Queen of Scots of childhood holidays (she has since moved on to Richard III). She completed her BSc and MSc at the University of Hull, and has worked as a marine environmental consultant since graduating. Enrolling on an adult education workshop on her return to the north-east reignited Jennifer’s pastime of creative writing, and she has been filling notebooks ever since. In 2014, Jennifer won the Story Tyne short story competition, and also continues to work on developing her poetic voice, reading at a number of events, and with several pieces available online. Her books are published through Ocelot Press. She is also the co-founder and host of North Tyneside Writers’ Circle, and has been running workshops on creative writing and social media since 2016. Find out more from https://jennifercwilsonwriter.wordpress.com/ and follow Jennifer on Facebook and Twitter @inkjunkie1984

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