MY HUSBAND is currently preoccupied with the Open Championship at

Muirfield and he is probably, at this very moment, lurking around the

club house bar.

I cannot begin to remember when he last played golf. Like myself, Old

Camperdown is more at home with a ghillie than a caddie, but after the

Christie's Scotland auction on Thursday, he got very excited about

feathery golf balls. If one knew about such matters, one could probably

find some Freudian explanation for this, but, as I keep reassuring

myself, many of one's friends do have odd little acquisitive habits.

And -- heaven forbid -- if one should ever have to open the house to

the public on a regular basis, it is not such a bad thing to have a few

quaint little somethings to show off.

The usual business, of course, is to have historic memorabilia; you

know, uniforms, armoury, swords and pistols. At Dalmeny, the Earl and

Countess of Rosebery's South Queensferry home, they have various

paintings of Napoleon, his writing desk with chairs and his shaving

stand.

At Broomhall, near Dunfermline, the Earl of Elgin and Kincardine has

two of Robert the Bruce's teeth in a test-tube, and there are so many

locks of Prince Charles Edward Stuart's hair in existence that he must

have been completely bald as a consequence.

Childhood items are always appealing. At Finlaystone House, Langbank,

Jane MacMillan of MacMillan, apart from her Celtic enthusiasms, has a

thrilling display of dolls; similarly, the Hon Gerald Maitland Carew has

amassed a large collection of period toys at Thirlestane Castle, Lauder.

At Stevenson House, Haddington, Aline Dunlop has a blissful old doll's

house.

One fad I am not at all comfortable with, however, is stuffed birds.

The last time I was at Floors Castle, there was a large heron on the

lawn and I was positive that I had just seen one of it's relatives in

the William Playfair room inside. Before they vacated Glentruim, near

Kingussie, Ewan and Sandra Macpherson's hallway was packed with lifeless

specimens of the feathered variety and, at Megginch Castle, in

Perthshire, Lady Strange has a whole room set aside for them. I often

wonder if Humphrey, her husband, re-stocks it when he goes on the river

with his punt gun.

CONTEMPORARY paintings, of course, are not everybody's cup of tea.

Most of us, after all, already have far too many old masters about the

place. But, as I always say, even Henry Raeburn was modern in his day.

At Brodie Castle, Forres, the Brodie of Brodie has some splendid

British watercolours alongside contemporary works, all acquired by him

and Violet, his late wife, for under #25. The one I like best is the

watercolour by James McIntosh Patrick who lives near Dundee and whose

son, Andrew, runs the Fine Art Society in London and is the most

charming of individuals, although I am still terribly cross with him for

closing down the Edinburgh gallery.

In Ayrshire, Jamie Hunter Blair at Blairquhan and Alex and Cecilia

McEwen at Bardrochat, have impressive twentieth century collections. At

Lord Macfarlane's home in Bearsden, they hang floor to ceiling.

Also in Ayrshire, before the family abandoned Hunterston House (next

door to the nuclear electricity-generating station), I remember the

Hunters' daughter, Pauline, showing me gowns from their fabulous costume

wardrobe which, at the time, she was busy cataloguing with the National

Museum of Scotland.

Personally, I am a trifle perplexed about Camperdown's obsession with

feather-filled balls. They are not exactly pretty to look at and,

indeed, I was using one for putting in the garden until I read somewhere

that it was probably worth #15,000. We already have several grey and

white ones and now have two red ones, all dating from the early

nineteenth century. They are stuffed with either chicken or goose

feathers and have leather outer cases sewn up with rope.

On Monday, at the Sotheby's sale at Loretto School, Camperdown decided

not to bid the Dutch old master portrait of the boy golfer wearing a

dress. Instead, he returned with some c1525 golf heads and a rather

unusually shaped stick. Not so long ago I purchased a hilarious golfing

cartoon by a nice young chap called Hugh Dodd and I have recently found

some lovely green antique serge satin which will make a superb lining

for a handsome little display case.