A Hilarious Wedding in Scotland

Yes, Robin has given permission to share his account of his wedding to Margaret in Scotland. This is bound to make you smile, perhaps even laugh aloud. What fun!

I'm sure I've read somewhere that tradition says the groom arrives early and the Bride arrives late. Trust me to get it wrong! I arrived late, and the Bride had to keep circling the block because she got there early!

It wasn't my fault. The kilt went on fine; it was my 50-year-old tie that caused all the problems. After 20 tries, I still couldn't get it the right length. Then I figured out what was wrong. I was trying to put it on while looking in the mirror. I never do that. Once I relaxed and relied on muscle memory, it went on fine.

Finally, the Sgian Dubh went in the top of my right sock, and if you look carefully, I put a comb in the top of my left sock. I had loads of fun explaining away the 1970s South African safari suit tradition. Lekker!

However, by then, I was late. I think everyone at the church was getting restive and wondering if Margaret and I had gone and eloped anyway!

When I got to the church, poor Fiona, the Minister, looked like she was trying to herd cats! She directed me inside, and then she must have roared outside and flagged Margaret down before she rushed back in to look totally in control at the pulpit. Good work, Fiona!

A nod from Fiona to the organist and Pachelbel's gorgeous Canon in D floated around us. I turned around, and there was my love gliding down the aisle towards me, a vision in green lace.

The rest is a bit of a blur. I know we said, "I do" in the right places, and my ring eventually went onto my finger. But before we knew it, Fiona was presenting Mr and Mrs Miller to the congregation.

Then it was down the aisle, and fortunately, we didn't kick the bucket. A strange turn of phrase, you might think. Not really. You see, the aisle is very narrow, and there are little brass buckets at the end of the pews to hold the congregation's umbrellas. (This is Scotland, remember?) So with a delicate hop, skip and jump, we negotiated our way to the front door. And this is where the panic set in again! No Taxi!!

The church bells are pealing for all they are worth - and therein lies another tale for later. But no taxi AND it's raining. The taxi had been diverted to the hospital with an emergency. So Margaret and I turned around, went back up the aisle and tried to look as though we knew what we were doing. Eish!

Twenty minutes later, the taxi arrives, and we're soon on our way to High Brownmuir for the reception.

I think the photos and videos are worth a zillion of my words, so I'll just let you enjoy them.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/9Hvd7SY33JFh5iWC9>

Rashid, the owner of High Brownmuir, was a huge blessing and gave us the bridal suite for the night.

The honeymoon was a tight secret despite various attempts to get it out of me. We rented a small cottage on the grounds of Kilbride Castle, which is halfway between Doone and Dunblane. The weather was very Scottish — sun, rain, snow and wind but we didn't care because we were snuggled up inside with our open log fire.

We had some lovely walks around the Castle grounds, where the snowdrops were magnificent. One day we came across a guy blowing leaves away along the drive and discovered he was the owner of the Castle, which had been in his family since the 1700s. Amazing.

When we got home, we found that Strathaven Echoes had published an article about Margaret and me. And I believe they will publish an article about the Glassford bell ringing incident.

I'll have to keep an eye out for that.

God bless
Robin and Margaret

P.S. from Ruth: I hope that link to the photos will not be broken up, as those are such a treat! Some of the photos, if you slide your cursor back and forth over them will slowly move and give you a panoramic view; others, just try clicking on them - they turn into videos of the dancing at the reception! Just highlight all the lines of that link, then click on them all at once. Presto! Away you go!

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