Dyemill cottage, our home, on the seashore of southwest Scotland in the County of Wigtown (Wigtownshire).
A butcher came once a week from whom we bought our meat. Christine and Bonnie walked to a nearby farm to buy our eggs. The land agent, Pauline's husband, Leigh, was an avid hunter who gave us pheasant and even a goose once. The goose hung upside down in the foyer for almost a week, dripping blood, until we threw it away, not knowing how to gut or cook it. But we enjoyed the pheasant, dodging the tiny pellets embedded in them.
We hosted a Mexican dinner for Pauline and Leigh and several friends we'd met through them. It was hard finding ingredients in Stranraer, the nearest town of any size, that would substitute for the real thing, but the enchiladas weren't too bad--perhaps a bit too spicy for the Scots guests who politely ate just a little bit. Pauline and Leigh could not have children of their own, so she in particular was really taken with Christine.
From Scotland & England