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This is the words of the duchess of roxburgh, she lived in floors castle before the duke died and passed ot to his son.

Floors castle is where prince Andrew proposed to fergie.

My first Yetholm ride…… By Lady Jane Grosvenor Dawnay (the former Duchess of Roxburgh) and mother to the current 11th Duke of Roxburghe, Charles Innes-Ker.

The first person I ever met at Floors Castle was Paddy Sullivan. It was one of those golden September days in the Borders which makes one want to paint a picture, write a poem or do something to recapture every magical breathtaking moment – if only one had a talent. I didn’t. I was a nervous girlfriend enroute to meet my in-laws to be (only I didn’t know that at the time) and anyway, I met Paddy Sullivan first. The small blue mini met us (The Duke and I) on the drive as we were passing the farm at Floors- he climbed out of the car with a beaming smile on his face and a spate of chatter to match. His boss, having just come back from being a soldier in Ulster and bringing an Irish lass home, he was curious, endlessly courteous and gave me a lovely, funny and very warm welcome. We were directed away from the Castle to pay our respects to “Sweet Story” who was in a field in all his thoroughbred scornful beauty. As Sullivan (as we used to call him) climbed in and out of Sweet Story’s legs showing how ‘tame’ the old stallion was, I was introduced in the most marvellous way to a very beloved home and one of the first of many wonderful people who gave me, an outsider, a feeling of belonging to the Border Country and also to Kelso, for which I am eternally grateful.
It was Sullivan who first mentioned the idea of joining in the Civic Week Celebrations. I had already met Derek Wichary who was the Laddie at the first visit to Floors and I had then thought what fun it all must be, as I watched the cavalcade clattering up to the porch at Floors. He had a marvellous speech and I shyly said how much I would like to join one of the rides. I rather thought it was something very much proudly part of Kelso, which it is, but I didn’t want to intrude like a club which you have to be born to, proven, and invited. Anyway, I was invited the following year, to my intense excitement. Sullivan was cock a’ hoop, having managed the whole thing, and hauled a disgruntled ‘Wexford’ out of his hunter’s pastoral holiday, all 16.3 h.h. of huge, dark, and thankfully amiable charm. He was enormously fat, but weeks of hard work did us both good d riding around the lanes and surrounding villages in May and June was lovely – hardly what one would call a chore.
About this time I discovered I was expecting my second baby, and I was slightly anxious what I had heard about the arduousness of the ride. I mentioned this to Sullivan, who flapped his hand in scorn and told me long stories about the lassies back home in Killarney who were flying banks out hunting up to the advanced stages of pregnancy – humbled by this knowledge, I carried on. Mrs Alexander McEwan of Whiteside, Greenlaw, was by this time mad keen to come as well. We thought we could hold each other’s hands if we became too scared and share a little moral support.
Before we really knew it Civic Week had arrived. I had to be away until the Thursday and arrived home in time for the ride to Floors and, for the second time I was extra-ordinarily struck by the dignity of the ceremony. The following day with thumping heart I dressed for the Whipman’s ride and had a rather frantic moment when I tried on my black coat. Unfortunately, the buttons would not meet the holes! After a prolonged search and much trying on of every coat in the house including my late father-in-law’s, I donned a coat belonging to my brother-in-law Robin and dashed out with Mrs McEwan, blue ribbons a’ flutter to meet Sullivan and the horses. His eyes narrowed a bit when he saw the coat but the old chuckle came out when I told him the woeful tale. After meeting in Kelso, we set off for the Ceremony and the presenting of the Whipman’s flag which was suitably bussed then set off for the short and lovely ride through Springwood Park to the Trysting Tree, the latter at an uncontrollable gallop by yours truly!! A small boy came forward and offered bravely to hold a rather wild eyed ‘Wexford’. Thank you little stranger, I never had a chance to that day! We then proceeded to the tree – no tree? When I queried this with Provost Sandy Blair before the introduction, he gave a slow smile and told me it had long been cut down and the remains had been made into furniture for the Castle, so I retreated abashed! I have never, I add hurriedly found any furniture to prove this claim.
After the Ceremony, the races took place, but a concerned husband forbade my participation, whether it was in defence of my fragile state or his horse’s legs, he forbore to comment. However, Mrs McEwan and I rode lazily back to the Castle fording the Tweed on way, our progress speedily increased with the help of a pigeon scarer!
Saturday…the big day, dawned dismal and drizzling, but nothing could dampen our excitement. We rode from Floors, Cecelia McEwen mounted on a nervous chestnut mare who bolted at the front gates. However, we achieved the Knowes without mishap, which was bustling with horses, ponies and people of all shapes and sizes. We proceeded to The Square following The Laddie and his Right and Left Hand men. The pipes played and the people cheered, evil eyed ponies kicked fretful thoroughbreds and all slithered on the cobbles in the rain. Cecelia McEwen was nearly bucked off as we listened to Sandy Blair’s ‘Safe Oot Safe In’ with an added prayer for the latter, and off we set at a brisk trot across the bridge with more cheers and some songs. It was a fantastic sight, about 200 horses and riders streaming back into Kelso and after the first field which sorted out a few of the wilder horses and a few bumps to match, we set off at a breath-taking pace. Pinnaclehill, Easter Softlaw Blackknowe Quarry flew past in a cloud of flying mud, shouts of glee and a few loose horses, and at the point of total exhaustion and exhilaration we stopped in a cloud of steam and flushed faces and foam flecked mouths. We were generously plied with soft drinks while the horses stood with slackened girths and heaving sides. Those with more foresight produced flasks of liquid courage, which was in great abundance. Some of the cocktail mixes would have made the barman at the Savoy in London green with envy at their imagination! Off we went again, and having got our breath back, had time to look around a little more. It may have been raining, but I have never seen anything quite so lovely as those hills, on the ride down to Yetholm. We paused for the wreath laying and rode into a town solid with history and tradition. After the refreshments on the Village Green at Kirk Yetholm, we returned to Town Yetholm for an excellent lunch in The Plough Hotel with The Laddie, his Right and Left Hand Men and were joined by David Steel M.P.
After lunch a rather sheepish Laddie descended to dance a very elegant reel and it was then time to go again. We had a moment of concern over Cecilia’s horse which had developed a rather ugly looking girth gall, but our horses had a really good rest in very kindly provided stables by the owner of The Plough Hotel, we set off at a gallop again from a wonderful hospitable Yetholm. In some cases, the hospitality had been so generous, a few were left by the wayside.
We passed by Primside, Linton, a quick break then plunged through Bowmont Forest. By this time ‘Wexford’ of the impeccable manners had had enough – he scented home like an old hound, got the bit between his teeth and off he went, skidding around corners like a formula one racing car, only he forgot that I was half a tree taller than he was, so by the time we reached Spylaw, I was wrapped around his neck with most of Bowmont Forest sticking out of my hairnet. Mr and Mrs Salvesen were wonderful hosts for another break before we settled into a subdued pace back into Kelso.
Back to base, tired, glowing and immensely happy ‘Safe Oot Safe In’. The Laddie dismounted, took his place like a King after receiving his Blue Bonnet under the Pavilion in the Square. Then as by Royal Command the deepest honour of the day was to be offered, the newcomers were to receive the badge to place in the centre of the famous blue rosette. I was one of the honoured, but as I descended off Wexford’s noble back and almost collapsed into a heap on the cobbles, I thought frantically how I would be able to make the walk up to the Pavilion. I staggered up to our charming Laddie trying to gather my bones and muscles together, to be warmly embraced by him, … bussed, I should say so – which made my day. I tottered back to the faithful Wexford, there was a hushed silence as I pig-headedly refused a leg up. The Square resounded with creaking joints, and miracles. I heaved myself into the saddle again, there was an understanding cheer, and I felt ridiculously pleased.
That was my ride to Yetholm and back, and it is something which I shall never forget, but most of all I am so grateful for the kindness and welcome I received from veterans and newcomers alike. To have taken part in the Yetholm Ride is something I am inordinately proud of and so, I hope will be my son, Charlie born seven months later.