Yesteryear: a First Novel by Caro Claire Burke

Reviewed by Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett as Book of the Day in The Guardian, and an ‘instant Sunday Times top ten bestseller‘ on Amazon, the basic plot of this novel is the juxtaposition of the two different lives of our heroine Natalie – as modern social media influencer par excellence on the one hand, and virtual prisoner on a devoutly Christian farmstead in 1855, on the other. Modern Natalie was living the dream as a traditional Christian wife – a ‘tradwife’ –  but she wasn’t exactly depicting their farmstead life completely honestly. Her followers saw her living a simple country life – but not all the extra help that enabled her to do it.

In my own 1904 house, last Friday saw me condemned to a few days without a working washing machine – handwashing essentials at the kitchen sink in what was originally the scullery/wash-house. I felt as though I was reenacting the drudgery of an earlier age – but still with modern detergents and fabric conditioner.

What does this have to do with someone else’s first novel? Well, my own temporary ‘step back in time’ meant that the fundamental premise of Burke’s first novel certainly resonated with me, and I rushed to order a copy. (After all, I deserved a treat in between wringing wet washing and hanging it out to drip-dry!)

I’m not always enamoured of novels where chapters alternate between different viewpoints or different eras, but it was tightly written, insofar as there weren’t too many characters to hold in mind at any particular time. After a couple of chapters in each era, I was engrossed, wondering how exactly the author was going to resolve the bottom-line question: if Natalie had somehow slipped into a time-warp, then how? And how was she going to get back? And what was going to happen to the family she left behind in 1855?, assuming she would eventually be returned to the present-day for good.

Some characters were less convincing than others. Mary, the oldest girl in 1855, was quite frankly a bit of a bitch, and it surprised me that 1855 Natalie was so submissive towards her own teenage daughter. Moreover, Old Caleb in 1855 was a domestic tyrant, and would have been guilty of rape in modern terms – there was nothing to like about him.   By contrast, the modern-day rather feeble and unmotivated Caleb was unexciting rather than unpleasant, but despite being an unsatisfactory and rather disinterested lover, he somehow still fathered a big family.  Reviewer Lucy Cosslett highlights other aspects which don’t ring true – I don’t need to reiterate them here.

I’m not going to spoil it for you – the denouement certainly came as a surprise, but it did make sense.  I t was darker than I’d expected, but then again, Burke had got Natalie into such a predicament that it’s hard to imagine any happy-ever-after ending that would have been truly satisfactory.

Whether you can label something as a top ten bestseller, one-third of the way though the year, is a moot point, but I certainly found it hard to put down. Currently at a bargain price  – you can’t go wrong, really!

Pear-Shaped. When it’s Nobody’s Fault, but the Tech doesn’t Work

A pear still on the tree. Pixabay image

So, here we have a situation! Thoroughly Modern Millie (that’s me) has embraced Microsoft Bookings and Microsoft Forms, and the people I’m hoping to interview for my research project can book a time to chat with me online via Teams. (Or, indeed, in person in Dundee – at a few agreed times when I’ll actually be there!) I did several test-runs of the booking/meeting process with my patient and willing friends, and it all seemed to work smoothly. I particularly wanted to test it with people who didn’t have Microsoft Teams and would have to start from scratch. After the test-runs, it was “All Systems Go”, and I started on the interviews. I’m having a great time listening to people’s Leng Medal memories, though I do still have a lot more folk I’m hoping to speak to!

But if a scheduled Teams meeting doesn’t happen – by which I mean, I click on the link on my calendar at the appointed time, but the other person doesn’t check in – then that suggests that there’s a problem.

A Teams call isn’t a phone-call. The other person’s phone won’t ring, or buzz, at the meeting time. It’s more like Skype, Zoom or Google-meet. They will have got an email with a link to click. Clicking on that link should eventually take them to a Teams screen showing me waiting at my laptop.

My Brainwave (or was it?!)

For me, the frustrating thing is not knowing exactly what people are seeing when they click on that link! It’s hard to offer words of advice, when I don’t know what they’re encountering. I wondered if I could arrange a Teams meeting between myself on my work laptop, and myself on my mobile phone, which I could screenshot to demonstrate how it works. So … I emailed myself (the potential interviewee) a link to a Microsoft Bookings page. This is the email subject heading:-

And this is what my Researcher self said to my At-Home self. I soon began to feel as though I had a split personality:-

So, my At-Home self clicks on the blue Book a meeting – and this comes up. I have to pick a date and time, then click Next:-

At this point, the potential interviewee will have to verify their email – they will receive a verification code that they need to input. And then they’ll be guided through installing the Teams app. If they already have a Microsoft account, they can use that, or they can join as a Guest:-




Now my At-Home self receives a hyperlink for joining the meeting at the chosen time. (There’s also a meeting ID and passcode beneath these.)

How to Attend a Teams Meeting if you haven’t got Teams on your Device

1. On your Mobile Phone

If you’re using a mobile phone, and you haven’t already got Teams, you’ll be invited to download the app, using Google’s PlayStore or Apple’s App Store.

Here, I stopped the experiment, because my phone wanted me to log into my work Microsoft account, and plainly I couldn’t converse with myself from one and the same account!

2. Attending a Teams Meeting on a Computer

I turned to my own personal laptop. Clicking on the Join your Teams meeting link offered the choice of ‘Continue on this browser’ or ‘Join on the Teams app’, followed by, ‘Don’t have the app? Download it now.’ My personal laptop is old – it would only let me continue on the browser. (Shall we just say that operating two laptops side-by-side makes for a completely impossible interview, but I was able to open the meeting on both laptops, so in theory I was conversing with ‘myself’ …. )

The Teams app

I’m assuming that the Teams app would then take you to your appointment. Anyway, you’ll need to click to ‘Join’ the meeting at your chosen time. No bells will ring, no lights will flash. On my work laptop, a reminder comes up, and I can click on that to get into the meeting. Or I can access it via my Outlook calendar.

If it all goes Pear-Shaped

Well, we still have emails! And I’m also arranging some face-to-face interviews in Dundee. One way or another, I’m sure we can find a way to share those precious Leng Medal memories. Because every interview has given me fresh insights and some lovely stories stretching way back into people’s childhoods.

Pear Image by Hans Benn from Pixabay

Tech. Techity-Techity-Tech (and the Persistent Pensioner)

Pixabay cartoon of woman climbing a mountain of assorted laptops etc

I mentioned that my notes are full of JPGs – newspaper clippings from the British Newspaper Archive. It’s a very important source of data in my line of research. But there is an obvious disadvantage to this: the info in the clips is unsearchable, because it’s just captured in JPGs. The British Newspaper Archive text recognition works, but the amount of fine editing required is too time-consuming. Something had to be done.

Now, Microsoft 365 offers a dictate function,ย  butย  – I wondered if it was a company policy – I couldn’t use it. No problem, though: over the weekend, I had a series of Teams meetings ‘with myself’; dictated and used Teams to transcribe my clips; and pasted the transcriptions into my notes. Sorted! Moreover, it had the added advantage of forcing me to read every single word, and noticing a few more tiny details that I might otherwise have overlooked or forgotten.

Today (Monday) was a working day – well, a working morning, if I’m honest – and I decided that I really needed to pursue whether there was a better way. I got in touch with our very patient and helpful IT department, and multiple attempts were made this afternoon – it took quite a while – but we couldn’t get my microphone to work in Microsoft Word. Software was reinstalled – but still, nothing. I arranged another meeting for another day, and resigned myself to Plan A – the Teams ‘meetings-with-self’.

But it was niggling me, and I did a bit more googling and experimentation. Suddenly – and I don’t know how or why it happened – there I was. In SharePoint, looking at my weekend notes, and adding to them just by speaking. What’s more, a bit more playing around saw me dictating to the same document on my own very old laptop. It’s a twenty-first century miracle! Whether the reinstallation of software had anything to do with it, I don’t know – I can’t claim to have done it all by myself.

I may have spent much of my weekend, most of my non-researching afternoon and a little bit of this evening fiddling around, but it’s time well-spent. I do feel quietly proud that I’ve reached a solution to the problem, with or without assistance, and that this particular semi-retired Fellow still has enough nous to exploit technology appropriately.

To celebrate, I’ll listen to my favourite Leroy Anderson piece – The Typewriter. At the start of my career, I did the RSA Typing qualifications to Stage 3 – certified typing speed and all. How different things are with today’s modern technology!

Leroy Anderson โ€“ The Typewriter, conducted by Andrzej Kucybaล‚a

Cover Image by Richard Duijnstee from Pixabay

Hammer and Pliers (not habitual Research Tools)

Song Gems (Scots) embossed song book cover, gold on olive green

The morning started well. I was so early arriving at the dentist that the receptionist made me a coffee, and I was back off the bus in Govan, five minutes after my Partick appointment should have started. (Don’t worry – no hammer or pliers were needed there. I just had a filling replaced. The nougat my son bought me had a lot to answer for!)

With more morning left than I anticipated, I turned to look at the proofs of my article about the Song Gems (Scots). Tweaking the abstract (still no hammer or pliers in sight), I decided I ought to look at the cover again, before using the word ‘beneath’. But there was a problem …

I blamed my boxing-up and un-boxings occasioned by the rewire and redecorating projects, but only I could be blamed – no-one else was permitted near my precious research materials. Whilst I was still in a state of panic, I moved the duet piano stool to get better access to the bookshelf.

The bottom fell out of my world. Or, more correctly, out of the duet piano stool. Did I say I had time in hand? The hammer and pliers are easily accessible, but the tool-box containing nails is far less so.

The regular piano music is now back IN the piano stool; the tool-box is back under the stairs; and the prodigal Song Gems (Scots) has been found hiding in a pile of equally big, heavy books that are too tall for the allocated bookshelf. Proofs have been read, a bio written and the abstract perfected.

I could not use the word, ‘beneath’. Good thing I checked!

Kilbarchan to Southport to Ottawa to Vancouver: Organist on the Move

So, we’ve talked about the church organ which has been relocated from Kilbarchanย  (near Paisley in the west of Scotland) to Prenzlau in Germany.ย  Well, the first organist to play the instrument in Kilbarchan, went on to travel a whole lot further than that.

Edward Emanuel Harper

I’ve collated a lengthy document about the Glasgow Athenaeum’s second Principal. He was only with us a couple of years, of course. After that, he was Kilbarchan’s organist a little bit longer.

The family went briefly back to Southport, before heading to Ottawa – for a year – and then settled in Vancouver.

My notes are full of clips from newspapers. I traced his first Canadian year as an organist in Ottawa – and some snippets of genealogical data in Vancouver. But nothing of his teaching, and no trace of a large compositional output. I’ve looked at library and archive catalogues. Even a promising entry to his ‘archive’ leads to one piece, contributed anonymously by post in 1971. I’ve seen a digital copy of it. It was self-published.

So What?

You might askย  – I’ve already asked myselfย  – why I need to know? (Apart from the fact that these little research questions tend to take on a life of their own!)ย  And I think it’s because Harper was plainly a gifted individualย  – a PhD from Dublin, an LRAM, a brilliant proponent of Chopin, sought after as an organist and recitalist, and a prolific composer.

So where is his Canadian output, in manuscript or published?

And what led him to resign from the Athenaeum, seen by many as a ‘plum’ job? Our records are missing for that era. Did we let a genius slip away? Or were there difficulties that history has graciously concealed?!

Image: St Andrewโ€™s Church, Ottawa (Copyright: Jamie McCaffrey, Flickr)

Kilbarchan to Prenzlau

It was 2018 when the BBC posted the story of a magnificent three-manual organ built by Hill and Son, which was being taken out of Kilbarchan West Church – no longer needed after a merger – and transported to Prenzlau:-

‘Wonderful’ church organ sent to Germany

The Hill organ at Kilbarchan West Parish Church (photo from Kilbarchan West website). *

It has taken a while – Covid got in the way – but in May 2026, there’s going to be an organ festival to celebrate the inauguration of the organ in its new home.

Festival website

Former Athenaeum Principal Inaugurated Kilbarchan Organ

Well, I’m excited, even though I don’t think I can justify going all that way. (Or can I?) You see, I’ve been researching the second Principal of the Glasgow Athenaeum – Dr Edward Emanuel Harper, who was only with us for two years, 1902-1904. After that, he left. There are no records extant to say why he left. But within a few months, by September 1904, he had been appointed organist of …

Kilbarchan Church.

He played the inaugural recital for the new Hill & Son organ.

British Newspaper Archive: Paisley & Renfrewshire Gazette – Saturday 22 October 1904

I won’t tell you his whole story here – I already mentioned him, only a few weeks ago. By 1909 he had gone back to Stockport, accepted a job offer in Canada, been widowed before they had even moved to Canada, but still moved his young family to Canada as planned, and started a new life. And then another new life on the opposite side of Canada a year later.

Part of his fascination for me is his elusiveness, I must admit. Why did he leave the Athenaeum? What persuaded him to return to his home-town, or to cross the Atlantic? I do know a little about what happened when he got there. And I’ve traced his publications in the UK, but can only find only one published in Canada. Why? It’s hard to imagine he didn’t publish any more.

But most pressingly – do I want to go and hear the rebuilt organ which was, originally, only a few miles away from Neilston, where I am currently organist? After all, I’m not researching organ-building, or organ music. And  Harper wasn’t a Scot, or published in Scotland – but he WAS briefly our Principal.  I’m drawn to the story and the connections  …


* The original Kilbarchan church was more recently known as Kilbarchan West Parish Church, before it combined with Kilbarchan East. At that point, the united congregation elected to use the East Church.

Social History: Not Just Music!

A Vctorian lady teaching children in a ragged Sunday School.
The Magic Lantern - title logo

Some months ago, I was looking for a picture of a Victorian Sunday School, to illustrate my writing about music for Sunday School use. I found an enchanting magic lantern slide, and – eBay being such a tempting resource – I immediately snapped it up. In truth, I just fell in love with the image: the children aren’t standing singing, but it conveys an impression of a kind and gentle Sunday School teacher, and attentive pupils. (Perhaps it also puts me in mind of attending Sunday School back in the 1960s?)

Anyway, I wrote a couple of paragraphs about it for The Magic Lantern (no.46, March 2026), and the copy duly popped through my letter box yesterday. Since the newsletter may prove hard to source in future, I’m taking the liberty of reproducing my piece here. I can hardly call it an article – it’s too short!

Entire annotated image in The Magic Lantern no.46, March 2026, page 13.
‘A Lady Teaching a Ragged Sunday School Class’, The Magic Lantern no.46, March 2026, page 13. DOI:ย 10.13140/RG.2.2.36840.43521

A Week with a Difference – and only Halfway Through

Programme and delegate tag for Tradition in Motion conference at RCS

I started my Leng Medal Memories interviews this week. What a pleasurable experience this is turning out to be! Two of my interviewees still have their silver medals, fifty-odd years later. I subsequently asked the Facebook group, Dundee Pals, and found that lots more people there still have their medals, too. It just goes to show how significant winning the medals actually was to the school pupils who took part.

Anyway, I thought I’d re-share the link to my questionnaire about Dundee Leng Medal memories, in case anyone finds this post and would like to participate in my research project:- https://tinyurl.com/LengMemories

Tradition in Motion


On a different note, yesterday (Tuesday) saw me as a delegate attending the first day of an Royal Conservatoire of Scotland conference, which was celebrating thirty years of traditional music at RCS. The keynote speaker was Dr Jo Miller, one of the co-founders of the Scottish Music degree. As she spoke, her slides showing the chronology of those early years, I realised that when I arrived at what was then RSAMD in 1988, this was just as trad music teaching was getting off the ground.

In 1988, I had no idea that I’d end up recommencing my doctoral studies fifteen years later – little did I know! – forsaking mediaeval polyphony to focus on Scottish songs. My choice of subject was very much influenced by the thought that I’d at least be studying something that might be useful and relevant to students on that course. It took me a little bit longer before I realised that what I was researching counted as ancient history – certainly relevant background, but a very different kind of Scottish song to what today’s contemporary musicians really want to focus on! The songs – their tunes and authors – are still important. But the harpsichord, and subsequently the piano arrangements that I was looking at, represented the soundscape of another world entirely. By contrast, yesterday I heard a paper about sounding Scottish in modern harp-playing; another about the use of traditional Scottish music in videogames; and a third talking about Robert Burns and Hamish Henderson. So many different aspects of Scottish traditional music!

No more interviews or meetings for me this week, but next week I’ll resume my researches. Meanwhile, I need to create another ‘Microsoft Forms’ online form. To think that when I was first a doctoral researcher, I took typing lessons so that I wouldn’t be dependent on paying a typist – as I had done for my Masters dissertation.

By the time I finished my second attempt at a PhD, we had email and PCs. Social media and all the extra Microsoft offerings were still in the future.

And now – I couldn’t even do this present research without Teams, Bookings and Forms. Times change!

Silver & Gold Leng Medal Memories, Update no.1

A classroom in Wandsworth, London, 1906 - the year that John Leng died

I’ve heard from many kind people who remember their involvement with the Leng Medal song competitions in Dundee, and now I’m starting to organise myself to speak to (or chat online, or email) everyone who has been in touch and expressed a willingness to share their memories with me.  If you’re one of those people, and you’ve expressed a preference to share your memories via one form of communication or another, I have noted this for future reference. You’ll be hearing from me soon! But if this blog post is the first you’ve heard of my research project, then you can find out more about it here, and you can get in touch with me here. It’s not too late!)

I hoped to hear from a lot of folk, and I certainly did!  So I’m contacting a few people at a time, to make it easier to organise my time.  If I can, I plan to focus on a decade or so at a time – though this idea may end up being rather loosely interpreted!

I’ve just started emailing people who indicated that they could chat online, inviting them to select a day and time.  I’ve allocated half an hour, so that we don’t feel rushed.  But if anyone fears their memories won’t take that long to share – there’s no need to worry – any anecdotes, however wee, will help fill out the story!

Microsoft Bookings

I very carefully set up my Microsoft Bookings page, and so far as I could tell, I did everything correctly. However, when I shared the link, I suspect I ticked a box that should not have been ticked. Anyway, I’ve unticked the box and shared the link again. I only confess this in case anyone received an email from me but couldn’t make the link work! I’ve re-sent the email and hopefully all is now well. Every day’s a school day, as they say.

‘Two notes’

One person has revealed that they sang two notes before the teacher told them to sit back down!

I think I may have mentioned before – I work part-time, so progress will be slow but steady! I’m very much looking forward to hearing more about this remarkably long-lived and successful competition!

Karen McAulay


Faded old sepia photo of solemn children (Edwardian?) in a classroom
The ghosts of children long, long past – provenance unknown

Confession: these photos are from my own ephemera collection. They have absolutely no connection with Dundee, but just serve as a reminder of the days when Sir John Leng’s competition was initiated. The photo at the top of this blog was taken in Wandsworth in 1906, the year of Leng’s death. These little tots probably weren’t being taught Scots songs by their elegant teacher. On the other hand, the children at the foot of this blog post look exactly the age that early Leng Prize competitors must have been! This postcard comes with no caption whatsoever.


Links

Repatriated to the UK: the first ‘People’s Song Book’

Reunited!


Book 1 of The People’s Song Book (1905) finally reached me, yesterday. Repatriated back to the UK from Virginia, it was beautifully packaged and looks, outwardly, in good condition for its age. Inside is the most fragile paper I have ever encountered. And I’m not kidding! I have done some repairs with library-standard transparent Filmoplast, but the pages tear if one so much as lifts them too quickly to turn over, so I doubt I’ll be using it on the piano much.

Repurposed

Nonetheless, I have pretty much answered my own question: John Leng & Co’s The People’s Friend Students’ Song Book of 1939 derived half of its songs from Book 1 of their earlier The People’s Song Book, and half from Book 2 (1915). Both books, with Tonic Sol-Fa above the staff notation, were compiled by Nimmo Christie (1855-1920), a Dundee music teacher and music critic. For many years he wrote for the Dundee Advertiser, the first Dundee newspaper that John Leng edited. Christie’s sister was a journalist on the same paper.

Christie actually compiled several song books of this type. His name doesn’t appear inside either of The People’s Song Book volumes, but there’s sufficient evidence in contemporary Dundee newspapers. I’m completely convinced. Since he also conducted the Leng Medal concerts – and other school concerts – for a few years, there’s a pleasing tangential overlap with my Leng Scottish Song research, too.

Now, if the later People’s Friend Students’ Song Book derives from the two earlier collections, is there any more to say? Well, yes.

‘A-Roving’

The front cover of the free supplement, The People's Friend Students' Song Book

There is one extra song which is in neither earlier book. Back and forth I went, looking through the section indices and the music itself. But ‘A-Roving’ (also known as ‘At Number Three Old England Square’) is categorically not there. An early appearance of this song was in the Canadian Camp Fire Choruses of 1887, ‘Presented to Members of the Canadian Expeditionary Forces With the Compliments of The Compilation Committee of the University of Toronto Song Book’. Oxford University Press reprinted it in 1916.

The song is also in Bayley & Ferguson’s Scottish Students Song Book – but although it’s the same tune, the piano arrangement is different, so it wasn’t just lifted.

Which begs the question, why did John Leng & Co. insert the song into their later publication? I suspect it may simply have been the choice of a well-known song that would fill a blank page.  I cannot find any reason why this particular song was included, and certainly no link to the by-now long-deceased Nimmo Christie.

No matter.  Community singing and family sing-songs were for many years a popular form of amusement for folk in many walks of life. Evidently, students were no different. It says something for the repertoire that it was still considered worth reproduction in this free supplement in The People’s Friend, a quarter of a century later.

Related Post

You may also like to read my blog post of 8 March, The People’s Song Book No.2