NEVER TOO POSH TO PUSH

Mass confinement forced grand dames to acquaint themselves with domestic chores, says Fiona Armstrong

Domestic chores don't do themselves, as Fiona Armstrong has sadly discovered

This lockdown has shown one thing. Whoever you are – and wherever you are – you are never too posh to push. Throughout the land it seems that the great and the good got to grips with their vacuum cleaners.

They were cleaning chandeliers and shining silver. They were flicking feather dusters and scrubbing large enamel baths. Because with teams of hot and cold running staff furloughed, what else was a landed laird or lady to do?

For my part, I have to say that I was particularly impressed with the Duchess of Argyll. There she was in a national newspaper with her hair tied back and her sleeves rolled up, a super glamorous Mrs Mop.

Yet what else was she to do? For Eleanor Campbell’s staff were apparently on paid leave. And the smartest castle in the world does not clean itself.

Why, it is even rumoured that her husband, the Duke, did his bit to keep the place spick and span. Or at least keep the gardens in check.

This Argyllshire effort was well worth it because Inveraray is a magnificent Gothic-style creation. Sited on the shores of Loch Fyne this 18th-century fortress appears awesome and should be on every staycationer’s must-see list.

Inveraray is a spectacular stronghold, and it is one noted for exquisite china and magnificent tapestries. And then there are the ghosts, because every good castle needs a ghost, although if you are of a military mind, the real highlight is the armoury.

I am told that when we go, we must enter the hall and look upwards, which will apparently make me giddy because I will be under one of the highest ceilings in the country – and surrounded by more than a thousand pikes, muskets and blades.

Swords hang. Guns are shaped in roundels. Suits of armour sit on sideboards. But then the Campbells have always liked their weapons, especially when it comes to the MacGregors.

Hanging above the fireplace in our rather more modest hall is a firearm with a serious story. It is a fusee and it was used to shoot the last of the bloodhounds trained by the Campbells of Breadalbane to track hapless MacGregors.

The chief says it was fired on the infamous Hill of the Hound at Lochearnhead, which is Clan Gregor’s homeland. Just how many of his ancestors were despatched by the callous Campbells is not known, but then it has to be said that the murderous MacGregors probably deserved as good as they got.

My husband’s clan has always had a love hate relationship with the Campbells. Over the years the families often intermarried, yet over the years these wayward tribes also killed each other.

Today we may throw the odd insult, but hopefully we are rather more civilised because it is in these troubled times we discover that we have more in common than we would think.

Like the Duchess in Argyll, here at Armstrong MacGregor Towers I, too, have been busy dusting and polishing. Because, like millions of us, my lovely lady who comes in to help during the week was stuck at home during the lockdown.

I think I may have had the better deal. Up there at Inveraray they must have hundreds of rooms. Or I would imagine they do. For when a Scottish aristocrat is asked how many he or she has they may say, ‘Do you know, I’ve never counted…’ Well I have and I can tell you there is nothing like that number in our house.

Until next time, please stay safe – and remember, when it comes to cleaning, make sure your other half does their half...

“The Duchess of Argyll had her sleeves rolled up like a glamorous Mrs Mop