Scottish Game Fair...Scone Palace
Two days after drinking tea with the King, we were standing in a muddy field at Scone Palace, wondering if the tent would hold up against another gust of wind. That’s small-business life in a nutshell: one minute you’re on the lawns at Holyroodhouse, the next you’re ankle-deep in grass with midges, wellies and a coffee that tastes faintly of woodsmoke.
We’d been invited to take a stand inside the British Deer Society tent at the Scottish Game Fair, surrounded by tweed, antlers and plenty of country types. Everyone else had leather tools, venison or leaflets. We had dinosaurs, koalas and a socially conscious enterprise that funds mental-health support. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. People stopped. They read the cards. They asked questions. And once people start talking, they tell you things.
Rural events often begin with small talk - the weather, traffic, the price of feed - and before long the conversation edges into something deeper. A gamekeeper told us he’d lost two friends to suicide this year. A young woman said she drives an hour and a half each way for counselling. Someone admitted he’d been struggling himself but didn’t want to be seen as “taking up space” on a waiting list. Nobody was looking for sympathy; they just wanted to be heard by someone who wouldn’t change the subject. That’s when you remember why you’re there: not to sell, but to connect. The cards are the ice-breaker; the conversations are the point.
If you live in a city, help usually feels close, a bus ride, a GP, a service or two. In the north and northeast it can be a very different story. We’ve got around fifteen community psychiatric nurses covering an area the size of Belgium. People drive for hours for a short appointment, if they can get one at all. That distance, both geographic and emotional, is what drives us. Rural life can be beautiful and brutal in the same breath. And when you’re miles from anywhere, knowing someone else understands can make all the difference.
Every card we sell funds free, local mental-health support, coaching, peer groups, training. No waiting lists, no referrals, no postcode lottery. When someone in Perthshire buys a card, it helps keep a support session running in Moray. When someone in Cornwall sends a Koala-ty Time card, it helps fund a menopause group in Forres. That’s what we mean by “turning creativity into care”. It’s a small loop, but it works. At Scone you could see that realisation happen in real time. One minute people were laughing at a pun about dinosaurs; the next they were asking how this actually funds support. We explained, they nodded, and they bought a few more cards. Not out of charity, but belief.
Two days, two palaces, two worlds. Holyroodhouse was all silverware and polite applause; Scone was bacon rolls, muddy boots and a child with a fox sticker on his jacket. Both matter. One gives visibility; the other gives truth. You need both, the palace and the field, the headline and the handshake, because change only works when it travels in both directions.
About Brilliantly Brave
Brilliantly Brave is a purpose-driven greeting card publisher based in Moray, Scotland. Founded in 2024, the business creates beautifully designed cards that celebrate diversity, promote mental wellbeing, and directly fund community mental health initiatives. By channelling 100% of profits into local support services, we're pioneering a new model of social enterprise that proves commercial success and social impact can go hand in hand.
