A Post That Has Been a Long Time Coming

A few weeks ago my youngest brother (who I shall hereafter refer to as G) was married to his wife (who I shall hereafter refer to as E). Since then, LC has been eagerly awaiting this post, so that she knows what happened. This is therefore a post that has been a long time coming, about an event that was even more overdue.

The weekend started on the Friday, with the usual flurry of chaos that marks all our adventures – I finished work to find LC frantically packing for our weekend away. She’d left this to the last minute, having only started packing the week before. Anyway, we gathered everything that was needed, and about a million other things beside, put Funsize in the car, went to collect Surprise!, and we were off!

For the weekend of the weeding we were staying in the Premier Inn in Leith – not too far from home, but a suitable base for the weekend. (Our plan was to stay there, rather than at home, to allow F and S to stay up as late as they can manage, to gain maximum enjoyment from the day. A plan which worked very well.) En route we went into Edinburgh to pick up our kilts for the event.

This, of course, caused all sorts of a commotion, because in the kilt hire shop they had a great many outfits for the weeding party. And with most of them staying in the same Premier Inn, there was a question about whether we should pick them up or not. In the event, we collected some of them – a very confusing arrangement.

Anyway, we then battled through Edinburgh to the Premier Inn, unpacked a million things from the car, and then collapsed. Except that we didn’t – I was due at a weeding rehearsal a scant five minutes later. So a quick message was sent saying that I was running late but on my way, and off I went again.

Crossing back through Edinburgh was a hugely horrible experience. I really don’t like driving there if I can at all avoid it, and this journey took me through the worst possible part of the city at the worst possible time. Still, I got there in time to miss only most of the rehearsal, but to learn what I needed to learn. And then we were off back to the hotel.

We then had a meal with all my brothers and their families (missing only one wing of the family… but that was still a miss). Then we put the kids to bed, and the day was done.

Saturday saw us rising early and going for our Premier Inn breakfast, which was obviously the highlight of our stay. Then back to the rooms to get changed, to help the kids get changed, to help G get changed (in a different room), and then to change location while waiting for our Uber. And then we were off!

The weeding took place at Chalmers Church in Morningside in Edinburgh. My primary role for the day was to play the bagpipes, so once our Uber arrived (only a little late), I tuned up and played. It was fine – by this point playing at a weeding is fairly well-trod ground for me. So the performance was good enough without being exceptional.

It is, of course, the bride’s prerogative to be late, and despite E’s insistence that she would be on time there was indeed a short delay. But only a short one – the weeding car arrived about 5 minutes after the official start time, I played my last tune, and then went inside. I proceeded to bash my head on a staircase – my bagpipes were being stored underneath, a plan that seemed good until I stepped from bright sunlight into a darkened stairwell with light-sensitive transitions lenses on.

The service itself was lovely. Our brother A performed the actual marriage, I signed the register (as a witness, obviously!), G cried a great deal, there were hymns, a very touching poem, and generally a good time.

Also, the dress was white. I remember that distinctly.

We then proceeded back outside into the sunlight for photos, and also there was tea and coffee and cake. Huzzah!

After a short while we all lined up for G&E to run a gauntlet of confetti throwers, before they jumped in a car to go get their official photographs taken. And shortly after that we called another Uber and went on to the reception.

The reception took place in the Biscuit Factory, a former biscuit factory turned event venue. As we gathered there we were offered some very tasty canapes, before being ushered upstairs for the meal. Here, I was once again called on the play – piping in first the top table and then G&E. Then I joined them at the top table.

We then proceeded to the speeches, of which there were four: E’s dad, followed by my dad spilling his drink all over my tablecloth, followed by G as I frantically tried to clean up the mess, followed by the chief bridesmaid, followed by one of the co-best men, R.

I don’t have much to say about the speeches. They were all great, striking different tones, but they were warm, and touching, and funny by turns. Good stuff. I did, of course, note when the microphone’s batteries ran out – internal rechargeable ones are the way to go there… #justsaying.

Then the meal. I had chicken followed by a chocolate brownie, along with copious quantities of wine. It was good.

And then back downstairs for the dance. This kicked off with the traditional first dance, at which I was tasked to partner one of the bridesmaids, and then the ceilidh. For the first ceilidh dance LC rushed off to change her shoes, only to find herself usurped as Funsize demanded a dance. Tee hee.

Funsize proceeded to spend the next several hours on the dancefloor generally having a whale of a time. Surprise!, meanwhile, quickly fell asleep, exhausted by events. I danced a few more dances, though only a few, then enjoyed a bacon roll.

And then the ceilidh ended and the disco began. At this point, children were barred from the dancefloor (apparently to avoid the risk of a crush), and Funsize really started to wind down. So we called an Uber and went back to the hotel. Surprise! woke up en route and was much less than happy, but we managed to get back, get them changed, and get them back to sleep.

Sunday saw us again partaking of a Premier Inn breakfast before driving home, cursing the car as it developed a nasty fault, and then hosting a family BBQ in the afternoon. All in all, a success, but not the focus of the weekend.

And with that, we completed the set – the last of five siblings to be married. Huzzah!

The Curtis Completion

This weekend saw LC and I (and Funsize) attending our fourth and final (probably) wedding of the year. This time, it was the wedding of two good friends of ours, and took place in the church where LC and I were married lo those many years ago (well, six and a bit). The reception was at Ross Priory, at the side of Loch Lomond.

It was a lovely day. We arrived bright and early, in order that I had time to tune my pipes and otherwise get ready. Then there were a few minutes of waiting, and then the time came to play. That went well, and then the bride arrived.

It now transpires that LC is going to mock and deride my description of the dress regardless of what I put here, so I'm going to content myself with: it was a white dress. So there!

Anyway, the wedding ceremony was lovely, and was fairly traditional in character. I thought it was quite short, although LC disagreed. There were two hymns, the exchange of vows and rings, the signing of the register, and a short message. Then outside for some photos, and then off to the reception.

The reception in Ross Priory was likewise lovely - the building had a lot of (fairly small) rooms, which meant that people could mingle in various groups. Before the meal, and while the official photos were being taken, there were drinks and nibbles laid on, including haggis bonbons (which means that this wedding wins - sorry to the others!). Then there was the cutting of the cake.

The meal took place in a very crowded dining room - much like the first wedding of the year, there was a top table with four rows leading down from it. This meant that the staff had a somewhat difficult time moving between the rows to serve the food.

But before the meal, came the speeches. As standard, there were three - ish. The father of the bride spoke first, then the groom, and then two the best men each gave a short speech. There were the usual happy words, the usual jokes, and the usual rounds of thanks. (As thanks for my part in the day, I was presented with an 8-pack of cans of Irn Bru "from before it became illegal". They know me so very well...)

The meal was excellent - a tomato and red pepper soup to start, followed by chicken and many vegetables, and then a sticky toffee pudding. Naturally, Funsize made her presence felt - LC had to take her out to feed at the start of the meal, and I had to eat my soup very quickly. Then I took FS for a walk in the grounds and persuaded her to sleep, before returning. I returned in time for the chicken, which LC cut up for me and I ate one-handed.

And then there was the dancing - a ceilidh in a fairly tight space, but with plenty of other areas for people to go and chat and generally catch up. All in all, a thoroughly enjoyable evening and day. It was just a shame that we had to leave around 10, when the buffet was served, as Funsize was by this time worn out.

Which brings us to the end of wedding season for this year. Actually, 2018 has been very unusual - weddings have become somewhat few and far between, so to have more than one in a year is remarkable, and to have four...

It has been quite interesting to see how the four weddings have each been unique in their own ways, and each quite lovely. The first, in London, was probably most notable for being FS's first big trip. With the long train journey each way, with the heat, and with having so much to carry, that weekend was perhaps overly dominated by travel. But the wedding itself was a great centre-piece to that. (I feel almost compelled to highlight the champagne at that one, especially as that was brought to our attention several times. In fairness, it was particularly nice - if you're interested, or happen to be looking for a recommendation, it's the Veuve Clicquot which is apparently especially good this year.)

The second was of course the big trip to the US, and so notable for the huge distance travelled, the holiday that surrounded it, and indeed for piping in another continent (though I have played in the US before, but not at a wedding). More than that, though, it was notable for being a family wedding, which of course puts it in a different category for the others. This was probably the biggest of the four weddings, in terms both of number and of 'spectacle' (not sure that's the right word, really). It was also interesting seeing how things in the US were almost, but not quite, the same...

Then there was my colleague's wedding, which was right at the other end of the scale in terms of size - about twenty people, no speeches, no dancing, but a lovely time. And finally this wedding, which felt like the most traditional of the four. Or perhaps was just the one closest to what I was used to.

The Promised Land

So, LC, FS and I had made it to America for the family wedding. Yay!

Our first adventure was simply getting from the airport to the condo we had hired for the week. This involved picking up our hire car (which was easy); fitting the child seat we had hired (which was definitely not easy, especially when the assistant said he couldn't even advise on how to do it, for liability reasons); and fitting six people, six cases, six sets of hand luggage, and a stroller all into a seven-seater car (which was just barely possible).

And then the drive. Here, we'd made a crucial mistake - I had decided not to pay for GPS in the car, on the grounds that we'd print directions and, if necessary, we'd switch on our phones' data and use that (and pay through the nose for it). However, on making our way out of the airport we immediately went in a different direction from that indicated by the directions, rendering them useless, and proceeded to drive five miles in the wrong direction!

Getting turned around, we then drove for a while in the right direction before starting to wonder just how much further we had to go. We'd turned on data on one of the phones, and discovered that it didn't connect properly, and was consequently useless...

At this point, we noted that the road parallel to the one we were on was the one we wanted*, so we turned right and then left, and started looking for numbers. It became clear that the numbers were higher than we wanted, and increasing, so we turned around and drove for a while, looking for the place. And then, "Aliens"-like, we discovered that we'd passed the number and had gone too far...

Well, it turned out that we were in Myrtle Beach while the place we were looking for was in North Myrtle Beach, where all the streets had exactly the same names but independent numbering. (* So, not really the road we wanted after all...)

Naturally, by this point everyone was tired and ratty and starting to snap at each other. Fortunately, FS took this opportunity for a highly-strategic cry and demanded to be fed. So we had to pull in to a car park to let LC do this.

I say 'fortunately', because the place we stopped at had a group of people clustered around the entrance. So I went and asked for directions, whereupon they promptly pulled out their phones, pulled up the map, and we were all set - three steps, 23 minutes, and we'd be there!

And, sure enough, we were.

(The other crucial mistake we made: Google Maps does of course allow you to download maps for offline use. Since the condo had wi-fi available, we were able to do this later, and so never got lost again. Still, we should probably have done it before we went. But then, I know that now...)

The condo was really nice - three large bedrooms, each with some sort of en suite facilities, and a vertigo-inducing balcony. We were on the top floor, which gave really good views, but enforced a "stay back from the railing" policy.

The focal point of the week was, of course, the family wedding on the Saturday. So, on the Thursday I unpacked my pipes and practiced briefly, mostly to make sure they'd come through okay. They had indeed, though playing in the heat was pretty intense - the pipes actually sounded great, but it was exhausting. Still, it was good fun looking out from the balcony and seeing everyone walking around coming to a halt and looking around in puzzlement. Plus, the applause I got at the end was rather nice.

The rest of day one was mostly spent getting groceries for the week and going to the beach. Which was fun, but a bit of a blur - we were all still pretty worn out from the journey.

Day two was dominated by the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner, where I learned what I was actually doing on the big day. It turned out I was doing more than expected - in addition to the normal 20 mins before the service, I was doing a processional for the mothers and grandmothers of the bride and groom and a second processional for the entrance of the bridesmaids/matrons of honor/maid of honor (of whom there were 9 - it was a big wedding party). Then I was playing a recessional for the full weddding party. But that was good - having come all that way, I might as well be useful!

The rehearsal dinner was great - a good chance to get to know a lot of the bride's family and to mingle, plus some really great food. I especially liked the mac & cheese, and the garlic bread rolls were amazing.

And then came the big day, and with it came the usual nerves.

The day started with me taking LC to get her hair done for the day - she had decided to wear it up that day, and the stylist did a really good job. (More than that I'm not qualified to comment. Sorry!) Then back to the condo for a very quick lunch, then a flurry of getting ready (with a strategic meltdown by FS, who of course demanded to be fed and changed just as LC really needed to be getting herself ready). And then to the car, and on to the church.

The service was lovely. The bride wore a white dress (tee hee), off the shoulder, with a long train and a veil. Surprisingly, the only singing in the service was from one of the bride's matrons of honor, firstly for the entrance of the bride and then again as they lit the "unity candle". The service was really quite touching.

The piping went well. I was happy with that.

Then we went to a nearby hotel for many pictures and the wedding breakfast. That was all pretty standard stuff. There were also speeches, and dancing - the first dance, a father/daughter dance, a mother/son dance, a dance of the bridesmaids, and then more dancing during the evening.

All in all, it was a really great day. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

The rest of the holiday is a bit of a blur, as the tiredness really started to catch up with me. There was a visit to a nearby town (that, sadly, turned out not to be particularly interesting), a little shopping, a massive thunderstorm (including a walk home in very heavy rain... damnit, should have taken the car!), more rain, a visit to a mall, and then to an alligator park. That was fun.

And then we came home. All in all, a thoroughly enjoyable time.

So... why "The Promised Land"? Well, that stems from a discovery that I made while we were waiting in the airport in Charlotte - the US haven't joined in with this made crusade against sugar in all their soft drinks, which meant that Sprite doesn't use artificial sweeteners (technically, they use high fructose corn syrup instead of actual sugar, so it's not the same as it was over here... but still). It was a massive pleasure actually having a choice of things I could drink. And, incidentally, it really puts the lie to the notion that you can't tell the difference between the drinks.

#28: "Norse Mythology", by Neil Gaiman (sadly, not his best book...)

Hmm, that's odd

I find myself lined up to pipe at a wedding in June of this year in the USA. As a consequence of this, I thought it would be quite nice to play something suitable American for the event, and while the "Star Spangled Banner" doesn't work terribly well on the pipes (due to the range of notes available), "America the Beautiful" should indeed work.

Or so I thought.

The thing is, while I've found sheet music for the tune easily enough, and although that music seems to match up with the way I'd expect the tune to be played, all the videos I've found of people playing the tune are at odds with this - there's a High-A being played where the sheet music shows a High-G. And as a consequence it all sounds really weird, and obviously wrong.

I suppose it's possible that Sinatra just sang it wrong, and that the tune should indeed have that High-A. But that really doesn't feel right, given how obviously wrong that High-A sounds in that context.

I dunno. It's just odd.

Anyway, the upshot is that I'm going to learn it the way that the music says, and if anyone questions it I'll just blame Frank.

The Adventures of Steph/ven: #3: The Wedding of Katie and Bex

Okay, right at the outset I'm going to say this: I'm aware that there are potentially discussions to have about the question of gay marriage. One day, I might actually post on that topic. But the time for that was not last weekend, and it's not really now either. This was, and is, about my cousin's day, so I'm going to respect it as such. To that end, while I'm not realy a fan of censorship, I've disabled comments on this post. Sorry.

So, I got back to the UK on Friday morning, at about 10:30. On Sunday, at about 2:30, I was parted from LC once again, got into a car with my parents, and travelled down to the wedding. We were the only three members of the Scottish branch of the family to attend; unfortunately, the schools up here go back earlier than down South, which impacted on most other people. (Indeed, I missed LC's first day of work as a result, which wasn't ideal, but there it is.)

The journey down was... interesting. According to Google Maps, it was a journey of 4 hours and 38 minutes. We got there about 8:30. Still, it was okay, I suppose. We did stop to eat along the way, then abandoned our first choice of services, stopped again later, regretted that we hadn't stayed at the first place, and reluctantly dined at Burger King. It wasn't the best - especially when we reached the hotel, Dad saw the menu, and commented that he felt the hotel restaurant would have been a good choice, looking both good quality and not bad price. (Yes, I know. I was shocked too.)

We stayed in the Premier Inn at Harmer Hill, which I think was once a family hotel that has since been bought over/converted to become a PI. Which was fine - it was pretty much as expected from the chain, complete with the Good Night's Sleep guarantee. I had no complaints, and even my parents were duly impressed. (Yes, I know. I was shocked too.)

During the journey down, it occurred to me that I didn't recall putting my cufflinks in my bag. I knew I'd put them beside the bag to go in, but didn't recall them actually being packed. LC then confirmed that they had been left behind, and so alternate arrangements had to be made (which reminds me - must send the borrowed ones back to M). However, this proved to be the less embarrassing wardrobe issue, as a certain person had to rush off to buy a new suit due to a trouser shortfall...

So, Dad returned to the hotel, dressed in about five minutes, and then we piled into the car. He then set off at high speed - so fast, in fact, that I didn't have the time to get the directions aligned and we missed the vital turn. Oops. Fortunately, I had somehow remembered my book of maps, and was thus able to navigate us to the appropriate place. Which was lucky, really.

The weeding took place at Rowton Castle:

It was a lovely, sunny day, so there was a gathering of the family in the grounds outside, and then again just within the castle. And then came the time for the ceremony.

At this point I wasn't sure what to expect. This was, after all, the first civil partnership I had attended, so what was it to be? What would they wear? What was the terminology? I mean, I didn't want to ask, but I was understandably curious.

Well, it turned out that, regardless of the technicalities, it was basically a wedding. So, there were several bridesmaids, each of the couple had two "best persons" (Katie had two best women, while Bex had a best woman and best man), and so forth. Also, the couple were referred to, almost exclusively, as "Katie and Bex" (or "Katie and Rebecca" where appropriate), which was a good choice.

For their part, Bex wore a fairly traditional dress, being a bluish silver and strapless, while Katie wore a pantsuit with a huge velvet jacket festooned with buttons in a nautical style. It suited her entirely, conveying exactly the whimsy that we've come to expect from Katie:

(Sorry, not the best photo, just the best that I took. I was using my phone, and hadn't quite got to grips with how best to use it.)

The ceremony was short and sweet, and then it was outside for mingling, for photos, and for the single greatest idea in the history if ice creams:

Yes, it's true - the ice creams were both larger than the entire wedding party, and they had the ability to turn you into a giant so that they were smaller than your thumb! Isn't that amazing?

The rest of the day was more or less as would be expected - there was some mingling, then the meal (chicken, or maybe turkey, and potato salad to start, roast beef for main, and then a brownie and cream for dessert), and then the first dance and disco.

During the afternoon, I was asked if I would pipe the couple in to the top table. I was, of course, delighted to do so, although I was initially a little concerned - I didn't want to force myself into their day, but my Dad had mentioned to Katie's Dad, and then Katie asked me. But I checked, and they were absolutely delighted that I play, so... huzzah!

Amusingly, while I was tuning up, it was noted that the cows in the field stopped what they were doing and appeared intrigued. Actully, while I was in the car park, I noticed this was the case, and had been a bit concerned lest they suddenly stampede. But all was well. In fact, I'm sure I noticed a few cows with cameras, so I can only conclude that I've now been tagged on photos on the cow social network, Facemoo. (Actually, that would be my second appearance on Facemoo, as I'm also the genius behind that famed mini-game "Is the Grass Always Greener?")

(For the record, LC laughed at both those jokes, so I'm taking that as authorisation to use them.)

And that was more or less it. We left the hotel about 11:30, after Grandma turned in for the night. And we travelled home the next day, just in time to attend young nephew P's birthday party. Because, of course, the adventure never really ends.

The Wedding of Kilt/Man and Lady Chocolat

The problem with promising a longer report with pictures is that, of all the people at a wedding, the two who are guaranteed not to take any pictures are the bride and groom. And while we had an official photographer, we won't get those pictures until we return from Honeymoon. Still, if you want to see some of the official snaps, check them out here.

I spent the night before the wedding at my parents', having been given strict instruction not to drive anywhere on the day. My day therefore started at around 7am, when I woke up after a decent, if short, night's sleep. There then followed a quick breakfast of near-Frosties, followed by a short walk. I offered to get the papers at this time, but that was a cover for one of my secret missions, that I'm not going to tell you about. (!)

Oh, yes... I've been given instruction that I have to mention the balloons. There were balloons all around the house, celebrating the wedding.

Shortly thereafter, G (the best man) and I had an early lunch. I had chicken soup; he had beans. And then, later than anticipated, we proceeded to start getting ready. Still, up to this point everything was nice and relaxed.

Unfortunately, this was the point where the stress started. See, I was wearing a plaid on the day, which is not something I've worn often in the past. And while I know how to put it on, I don't know how to put it on myself, only other people. The other person I know who does know is Captain Ric... and he wasn't there.

I made the mistake of asking Mum to help, precipitating a panic just when we needed to be leaving. Oops. Still, after a failed attempt to pin the thing on, I took the executive decision to leave... and we went.

About two minutes after arriving at the church, the plaid was properly attached. (It turned out to be inside out, but we fixed that soon enough.) I proceeded to hand out some gifts to our ushers and musicians, and spent some time generally getting in the way. I spoke to a couple of arriving guests, had some photos taken, and then was taken into the church to wait for the arrival of my bride.

(Naturally, my parents then arrived just after I had to go inside, which led to some rushing about getting some more photos taken, but that's not too important.)

The waiting was quite difficult. I really don't like waiting, and while I wasn't particularly nervous as such, I was really keen to get started. Shortly after the appointed hour, we received word that Lady Chocolat had arrived, and G and I moved to the front of the church, while the minister went to greet my bride-to-be...

At this point, I think I'll pause, and introduce the cast of the day. Obviously, I was the lead actor, being Kilt/Man and/or Steph/ven, your intrepid blogger and the groom. Lead actress is Lady Chocolat, my nemesis and fiancee (later bride). The Best Man was G, my youngest brother, while Captain Ric was the piper. The minister is A (of the A-team), the third brother. LC's bridesmaids are L and L, one her cousin and the other the daughter of her god-mother. Finally, the very lovely flower girl was SJ, our neice.

Anyway, it was time. A moved back to the front of the church and asked the congregation to stand, Captain Ric struck up with Highland Cathedral, and it was time to finally see the dress.

Lady Chocolat was wearing a very lovely ivory dress with little crystals sewn in. She wore a long veil with further crystals, which gave the effect that when the light hit her she glowed. The dress also featured a certain amount of corsetry, which further narrowed her already small waist, which meant she seemed tiny. Awesome.

So, Lady Chocolat made her way down the aisle, preceded by her bridesmaids and the flower girl, and accompanied by a very emotional father. At the front, she joined a groom who was grinning like a madman.

The first hymn was "Be Thou My Vision", and then came the wedding ceremony itself. Fortunately, I remembered the correct name (which was not Lady Chocolat!). So, that was one of three worries in the past. Huzzah!

And then A declared us married (Huzzah!), and I kissed the bride (Huzzah!). Seriously, it was just like that - blink and you'd miss it.

There was then the reading of a Sonnet (116), read by one of LC's school friends. And then it was time for the second hymn.

The second hymn was "Blessed Be Your Name", which I had initially been a little unsure of, but which was awesome. The whole church was filled, and it was just joyous.

A then bade us sit, and CJ (SJ's mum, and A's twin sister) read from Romans (8: 28-39), after which A proceeded with his address. I must confess, I don't really remember too much of the proceedings at this point, as I was too overwhelmed by it all. Fortunately, I've got a file with the order of events on my PC, so don't need to remember too closely!

There was then a prayer by another friend of ours, and then the third and final hymn, "Great is Thy Faithfulness". And then we went back to sign the register. While this was being done, one of our friends (who was also an usher on the day) sang for the entertainment of the crowd. By all accounts, he was awesome.

The recessional had been a subject of some debate for some time, as my suggestion had originally been thought too controversial. But Lady Chocolat then came around to the idea, and her parents had been okay with it, so...

The tune was "Throne Room", by John Williams, which is familiar from the end of Star Wars. It was played on the church organ by a friend of LC's Dad. And it was awesome! We especially got a kick out of that moment when everyone realised what exactly it was, and the laugh went around the church. And, of course, we had timed our entrance to match that scene from the film...

And that was it, we were out. The end.

Only not, of course. We headed out for a great many photos with many, many people. In this picture here, from left to right, we have LC's brother, her cousin, the best man, me, LC herself, one of the ushers (the singer), the flower girl, her other bridesmaid, and the second usher. I quite like that photo!

From the church we then went to the Colzium estate for more photos (ditching everyone else), and then went from there to the Inchyra Grange where the reception was to be held. It is symbolic of just how spectacularly lucky we were that day that the instant we got into the car for the Incyra, having taken the last photo, the first drops of rain fell in the only shower of the day. It stopped just before we got to the hotel.

Oh, and we got to ride around in this:

Nice, isn't it?

Of course, by this time we were running very late. Still, that was okay - we got to the hotel, and went more or less straight in to dinner. And then the nerves started again, just a little...

See, I had written a speech. But I wasn't really happy with it. The first draft had said everything I wanted, but had clocked in at 20 minutes, which was far too long. Several rewrites had got it down to 9 minutes 40 seconds, but that was still rather long and missed out quite a lot. Plus, I was rather unsure of how to follow up LC's dad, who might well burst into poetry...

The meal was great. The soup was roasted red pepper and tomato (just the thing when wearing white!), then the main was a choice of chicken stuffed with haggis or roast beef, and then the dessert was a raspberry cranachan. Yum!

Anyway, then the speeches. The poetry proceeded exactly as I had foreseen. And now it was my turn.

I had printed out my almost-last draft of the speech and I had it in my pocket. I had meant to do some cue cards, but in the end I decided to go for it unaided. Speeches are generally better that way, I've found...

Well, I needn't have worried, because the speech was fine. Better than fine, in fact. I was able to adjust my pacing to the mood of the crowd, and beefed up the "thanks" part of the speech a bit more than in that last draft, which I found more satisfying than my scripted version. Nobody seemed bored, the crowd responded at all the right points, and just as I'd hoped. Basically, it couldn't have gone better.

The best man's speech was good, too. So, three speeches, and all went down well. Huzzah!

And then, the wait... But the wait wasn't quite just a case of sitting around for the hall to be changed around. And a good thing, too, because that took longer than expected. Instead, I had asked my pipe band to come, and to play for us. So they came, they played, and they were excellent.

And while all this was going on, LC and I checked in to the hotel, the photographers got almost their last photos, and we met huge numbers of people. Good times. (Naturally, I didn't get to speak to as many people as I would have liked, nor to speak to anyone for as long as I would have liked.)

And then, finally, it was time for the third worry of the day - the first dance. And, because I don't do things by halves, we of course had something special planned...

The music was "Caledonia" by Skerryvore. It was a waltz. And, inspired by our friends Scott and Jen, and Chris and Cheryl, LC and I had sought out the services of a dance instructor, and prepared something special. Only to discover that LC's ability to move while wearing that dress was rather constrained! Oops.

Still, it went extremely well. I especially liked the applause that met the dip. I wasn't quite so keen when I made the same mis-step as had dogged us all through our rehearsals, but we got away with it. And before long, we'd reached the instrumental, and the wedding party joined us...

The rest of the night was mostly ceilidh, with just a little disco to round things off. We didn't have as much dancing as we'd originally planned, but what we did have was great. And, to be honest, I think that by the end most people had had enough anyway.

I only danced two ceilidh dances after the first, as LC couldn't really move in her dress. So, one of the two was with a friend of LC's, while the other was with CJ.

And then it was time to go. Our revels were ended, the band had finished, the party was breaking up. We retired to our room. And then...

I had to go back down, because LC had forgotten her purse, which contained the contact lens solution that she desperately needed!

This has, frankly, been a rather functional recital of events. There's just too much from the day to recount it all in a decent length. But the day was, simply put, legendary. It was absolutely perfect, from start to finish. I loved every minute of it. And, from what I've heard from people, everyone else had a really good time.

I don't really have any more words, so I'll finish up now. I'll leave you with one more picture of my beloved:

Hola!

For those who were wondering, the wedding was perfect. We could not have asked for anything better. Once again, a great many thanks to all of those who contributed to the day, and for all the many well-wishes that we received.

Lady Chocolat (Mrs /ven) and I are now in Mexico, having just had lunch, and are about to head over to one of the pools for a nice relaxing afternoon. This evening, we plan on drinking champagne and eating absurd amounts of free food. Plus, it's really hot.

Life is hell.

(Oh yes, for those who are wondering - there will indeed be a longer report on the wedding, potentially with pictures. But not right now!)

#13: "Silas Marner", by George Eliot

The End of Part Three

I'm getting married tomorrow. Which still doesn't feel quite real.

In a few minutes, I'll be heading off to the hotel to drop off the things that they need to set up for the reception. And then I'll be heading over to my parents for the rest of the day. At some point, I need to sit down and redraft my speech for tomorrow, which is written but waaay too long. Oh, and there are a few things still to pick up from the kilt hire...

It's going to be a busy day, and tomorrow is going to be crazy. So, the next time I post here, we'll be officially into Part Four.

See you on the flip side!

Two not entirely unrelated facts

On Saturday, I had my Stag Day, which was fun.

On Sunday morning (well, afternoon), I had to go to B&Q to buy a new toilet seat.

And that's all I'm going to say about that.

That Thing We'd Forgotten...

For the past couple of months, whenever I've been asked how the wedding preparations have been going, I've replied that either they're going really well, or we've forgotten something vital.

At the weekend, we discovered what we'd forgotten.

Some months ago, before even Lady Chocolat went off to Kenya on her great adventure, we had a meeting with the aunt of a friend of LC's, who bakes cakes. Thanks to a chance meeting, she had volunteered to do our wedding cake for us, which was a piece of amazing good fortune for several reasons. (Well, two: it means we get a cake from someone we know will do a good job, and we get to not pay "wedding cake" prices.)

Anyway, we left the meeting in good spirit. "That's that sorted out," we thought.

The person we were meeting, though, left with a slightly different impression. She thought we'd gone off to think about it. And, not having heard from us since, she assumed that we'd decided to go another way.

Oops.

Fortunately, this story has a happy ending. This all came to light when LC happened to make a phone call, and learned of the miscommunication. Fortunately, it remains possible for us to get the cake made as planned. We have another meeting on Sunday, just to finalise things.

So, that's another worry dealt with.

Mexico!

Well, the honeymoon is booked. As the title of this post implies, we're off to Mexico for two weeks. Hopefully, it should be a good (and especially relaxing) time. Huzzah!

I did have a small bone to pick with First Choice, though. While booking on their site, it declared we could pay a low deposit of only £150 per person. This was excellent - with all the bills coming up, being able to stagger the payments was a big plus.

Until we got past that screen, and discovered that the balance needed to be paid by today! I must admit to being at something of a loss on the benefits of this - how does it benefit me to pay a low deposit on Wednesday, when I then have to pay the rest of the money four days later? Surely, on that timescale I either have the money or I don't, so might as well just pay everything all at once?

But other than that, everything's great. Now we just need to get ourselves down to Manchester to catch our plane out...

The Good China

I'm going to be a little presumptious here, and talk about wedding gifts. Specifically, the notion of "the good china".

Simply put, I don't subscribe to the notion of keeping things for "best" or for "company", or whatever else. The problem is that after the stuff gets put aside, you then spend a significant amount of effort debating about whether to bring it out because so-and-so is coming around. Is this set of guests the ones that are important enough to warrant the good china? And if so, why them and not the people you had round last week?

The longer you wait before bringing out the good china, the greater the importance that becomes attached to it in your mind. Leave it long enough, and the good china becomes an almost mystical artifact, an heirloom of your kingdom, and to be treated with the utmost reverence.

Which means that when you finally do bring out the good china, presumably because the Queen has decided to pop round, you then get to spend the entire time terrified that it might get damaged.

In effect, what should have been a great blessing, and a source of joy and pleasure, instead becomes a source of stress and division, and then a terrifying ordeal.

I exaggerate, of course. But only somewhat.

My approach is the opposite - that these things are intended to give joy, and that they do that by being put to their intended use. That way, you can be reminded of the wonderful gift that your friend/relative/random stranger has given you. And when, as is sadly inevitable, it gets damaged/lost/worn out, well, at least you have the memories of having used the item well and properly. And not kept it carefully kept it "for best" for several years, finally brought it out of storage, and then dropped it at an inopportune time.

Ultimately, what I'm trying to get at is this: If you should find yourself giving us a nice gift, and you later find that we are busily using said gift, rather than laying it aside "for best", please don't be offended. It is not that we don't value and esteem you and your generous gift to us. On the contrary, it is precisely because we do.

My Best Friend vs Man's Best Friend

Over on the Chrlog, Chris has raised the question of who is to be my best man. Now, naturally, Chris was the second person I thought of (after Optimus Prime, of course, but it turns out that he's fictional and so unlikely to make it). However, there has been a development...

Inspired by the glorious example of Kim Kardashian, I decided to see if I could use the wonders of TV to fund the wedding. Therefore, I pitched an idea for a TV show to Sky: "My Best Friend vs Man's Best Friend" - a reality TV contest where several random blokes would be pitted against dogs in a bid to become my best man. Contestants would be judged on many 'best man' duties, such as the ability to bring me alcohol, willingness to chase after pretty girls, and ability to give a drunken and embarrassing speech on cue.

(Naturally, the balance of tasks would be important, to avoid skewing the contest too far one way or the other. For example, the St Bernard would have a clear advantage in the "bringing alcohol" contest, while the human contestants would have a clear edge in speech-giving over all dogs, except K-9 and the dogs from "Up", of course.)

Anyway, I figured there would be no way that a TV channel would go for such a ridiculous and outlandish concept, but that was because I haven't watched any reality TV lately. Apparently, Sky Living already have a very similar show, but with less intelligent contestants.

So they've commissioned the show.

Naturally, the big decision that needed to be taken was: who would be the judges. Obviously, I would have to be the head judge, but who else would be suitable?

Well, it obviously had to be a mixed panel, so as not to give the human or canine contestants an unfair advantage. And I think we've done a really good job. Playing the role of "the nasty judge", we have Kelsey Grammar who, having been married several times, knows a thing or two about best men. Our celebrity dog judge is none other than the legend that is Bouncer from Neighbours. And our final 'wild card' judge is that paragon of advertising: Churchill. (Although, to be fair, I think he may have agreed just a little too quickly...)

Anyway, look for my show coming this winter!

(Of course, there isn't a single thing in this post that is actually true. Although a big part of me really wishes it was!)

As foretold in the prophecies of Grandma

On the weekend of the wedding, I was somewhat surprised at the number of people who told my that they were looking forward to reading my account of events. I can only assume that they have elected not to bother actually experience things, and instead are going to live vicariously through this blog. Which seems very efficient of them. That said, it's a little disconcerting that Chris was one of them...

The first time I met Chris was right at the tail end of Part One, at a family gathering to celebrate my Grandfather's eightieth birthday. I distinctly recall that at this event, my Grandma was showing a friend around, and on introducing us all, she said, "And this is Chris. He's not officially part of the family just yet, but we're hoping it won't be too much longer..." I found that decidely amusing, and even moreso when Grandad later introduced him to another friend as "Rebecca's 'friend'". Tee hee.

Fortunately, Chris took all of this in stride, and so almost four years later, the time had come to travel for the wedding. Although, of course, putting it like that completely skips over several interminable weeks of conversations organising just who would be travelling with whom, when people would leave, what food would be required, and many other trivialities. Fun.

Packing for the trip was rather easy. One of the benefits of being me is that choosing wedding attire is extremely easy - I have to choose which cufflinks to wear (the Dalek links won that one), and I have to decide whether to wear a bow tie or not (not, as it turned out). The rest is basically mechanical.

However, I did make something of a mistake: I pondered whether to take either a belt (generally frowned upon when wearing a waistcoat - should be a cummerbund) or braces. To keep the kilt up, you see. In the end, I decided not to bother. After all, I had worn that kilt at a ceilidh recently, and hadn't lost that much weight since then. This whole "Clown Rule" thing is getting absurd - I'm going to have to get this kilt adjusted.

The Thursday night was not a good one. For reasons unknown, I failed to get to sleep before 2am, and then had to get up again at 7. Fortunately, I don't actually need to sleep, so that was fine.

The trip down South was nice and easy. For me at least: CJ had to do all the driving as I'm not insured on her car. There was an enforced stop while we (well, she) fixed the SatNav, but otherwise it all went flawlessly. It seems travelling with children has become an awful lot easier than once it was, what with the advent of the portable DVD player.

The apartments we were staying in were great, although finding it was a challenge. Somehow, I managed to get the notion that we were staying on the third floor of a building that turned out to have only two floors, and so couldn't find the place right away. It turned out to be just inside the main doors. Oops.

There then followed a gathering for drinks and nibbles, at which I wore my legendary t-shirt with frogs on. This successfully enticed a princess at one point during the evening, but she proceeded to wipe her nose on my shoulder, before crying for her mother. Such are the perils of being Uncle Steph/ven.

Later, there was a gathering of several of Chris' friends (and me) to move lots of furniture around. There were sofas to remove, chairs to place in rows, and then move around, and discussions about the same. Apparently, there was also work to be done at the marquee, but as it was quite cold I skived off. Still, it was interesting hearing the discussions about the content of the best man's speech - it seems Chris is far more of a rogue than I'd taken him for.

As the evening wound down, the rest of our party gradually arrived. First were the A-team, who arrived after a long but uneventful journey. Then came the parents, who managed to get within half a mile of the place before turning back. Still, at length they managed to get there.

But where was Graeme?

About 11:30 he phoned to say he'd been forced off the motorway by roadworks, was stuck in traffic, and was most likely two hours away. Huzzah! So, I asked his intentions: would he carry on even knowing he wouldn't arrive until 2, or would he find a place to stop. (Dad, of course, heard me asking this, and declared I should tell him just to press on. Such are the problems of working with incomplete information.) Anyway, Graeme said he would stick it out for half an hour more, and then decide. And so, we waited for a midnight call.

Midnight came and went, and then the call came. It turned out that the traffic had cleared almost right away, and that G had misjudged his position, and was therefore some 40 minutes away. Success! Anyway, Dad elected to drive out to find him, and guide him through the last few nasty turns, while I waited up for them to get back. (I figured I might as well see it through to the end.)

And so, on the Friday, I got up at 7, travelled for several hours, and didn't get to bed until 1. Not the best thing ever, I think.

So, Saturday saw me get up just before my 8am wakeup call, still rather the worse for wear. Still, a swift breakfast (Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes!) soon took care of that. At which point I looked out the window, saw signs of rain, and despaired. It turned out to be false evidence, but how was I to know this?

After a while, others stirred, and I ventured back downstairs to shower, shave and get dressed. On doing this, Andrew approached me to set up a policy for getting ready. Naturally, I agreed with everything he said, then proceeded to ignore him and do what I was going to do anyway. It seemed to work fine.

And so, there I was, resplendent in my finery, all ready to play, and a mere hour away from being close to the time I was supposed to be playing. Slight miscalculation there. Still, it did mean I got to enjoy the spectacle of poor CJ getting roped into ironing shirts for far too many people. (Not me, of course - my shirt had travelled just fine, and anyway I do my own ironing. I even have the scars to prove it.)

Finally, the time came. Out I went into the total lack of rain. In fact, it was a bright, sunny, and gloriously warm day. (Meanwhile in Scotland, Captain Ric got to play in the rain!) Just as I stepped out, Le Welsh was arriving, and conferring with Chris about where to set up. I recognised her by virtue of her looking a bit like herself. (That said, le Tart actually looked more like himself, or at least I identified him more readily.) Still, I didn't introduce myself at this point, as I had a tree to serenade.

Having serenaded the tree, and struck a suitably heroic pose for the purposes of being photographed, I returned to the front of the house and started playing. And this I did for quite some time.

The performance went well. Naturally, I stuck with a selection of simple tunes and old favourites. Plus a few fun ones thrown in for my own amusement. And, at one point I consulted with the registraar about how and when I should communicate with her on returning inside.

Just before the appointed hour, I returned inside, and made my way upstairs to where cousin RJ was making ready. My most important duty of the day was beckoning.

Well, true to her declared intent, Juliet was indeed ready at the appointed hour. She was wearing a fairly traditional white dress. The bridesmaid was in bright blue, matching the cravats worn by the groomsmen (a nice touch, I thought. Also, it was a very nice colour.)

And so, I returned to my position at the corner of the stairs, coordinated between registraar and bride, and then struck up for the processional.

Playing the processional is always the most nerve-wracking part of the wedding. Not only is it something that isn't done too often, but it's also the point where a bad mistake can have all sorts of nasty consequences. (Basically, whenever anyone is moving while music is playing, they'll naturally start moving to the beat. So, make a mistake, and you can throw them off their stride, which can be particularly slapstick when they're already nervous, and even moreso when the bride is walking down stairs.) But no mistakes, and she made it down to the centre of the hall without generating any amusing anecdotes.

The service was short, and struck me as being quite informal, but was well done. I was impressed at how well they managed to strike an intimate feel, despite there being almost a hundred people there. There was a reading from John Donne (who tended to write poems that weren't about what they seemed to be about), and another from "Far From the Madding Crowd". And then a song from cousin R. Oh, and I had a great view of the proceedings. Huzzah!

(It seems odd that the focal point of the whole weekend merits only a single paragraph in the middle of a very long post. Oh well.)

We then ventured outside once more, where the photographs were to be taken. Sadly, the taking of the photographs is always one of the least pleasant parts of a wedding. Lots of standing around, lots of waiting for people, and lots of organisation involved. But the important thing is that the couple end up with the best possible photos to capture the feel of their day, and in that regard they should have done well - the day remained quite bright, and the photographer certainly seemed to know what he was about.

Also, while the photos were being taken, there was a string quartet providing entertainment. On reflection, I think perhaps 'directly behind the band' may not have been the best possible listening position, what with sound being directional and all. Then again, I had an actual seat.

It was during this time that two legendary bloggers first spoke.

"Well played," said Steph/ven.
"Thanks," said le Welsh.

(At this point, I considered not speaking to her again, and instead saying something about "an unspoken understanding" in this post. However, I decided that that would be silly.)

It was also during this time that it started clouding over a bit. On the plus-side, I'm told that this actually makes for better photographs. On the minus-side, the poor quartet must have been quite cold. It seems that I had the best deal of all the musicians of the weekend, across many weddings of note. (Well, two.)

There was then a break before dinner. This gave me a nice opportunity to properly introduce myself to le Welsh. Now, when meeting people from the online world for the first time, there is always that little frisson of doubt. After all, this blog most distinctly casts me as the hero in my own adventures, and almost unfailingly presents me in a positive light. And I'm sure most other people do the same. So, then, what when we meet? Will we fall into the easy cameraderie of people who have known one another for years? Or, perhaps, will we take an instant disliking to one another? I must say, the latter possibility had cccurred to me as being not unlikely.

Well, it transpired that before I spoke to the blogger herself, I found myself talking with le Tart (there's definately something not quite right about those French pronouns, you know), about whom I only had second-hand information. Apparently, le Welsh likes him.

Well, the main thing I recall was his quip that he suggested he would tune my pipes in with the quartet, and play along. I must say, it was most refreshing to meet someone who's default assumption was that "I could do that". Most people assume playing the pipes is impossibly hard. (Which isn't to say it's not hard - it did take me some years to learn, after all.)

Le Welsh herself turned out to be almost exactly as I had imagined. So that was a relief. The "extraordinary detective work" quip, in particular, was quite good. We didn't talk about too much at this point, but would converse again later.

And so, we come to the meal. Sadly, the long-anticipated fish'n'chips had fallen through due to a frier mishap. (I'd been looking forward to it; I haven't had a real chip in six months.) Still, instead we had a three-course meal featuring tomato soup, chicken, and classic Eton mess. It was nice.

I spent the meal sitting next to the very lovely Meredith, the wife of a friend of Chris. Her husband could not be there in person, and so was represented by an old photograph and an iPhone. Have I mentioned that it was quite an unusual day? Anyway, we talked about airlines, Edinburgh airport, and how teachers apparently don't get enough holidays (?!). I think that seating arrangement might have been a moment of inspired genius; it would certainly prove useful later.

After the meal came the speeches. These were to be delivered without the aid of electronic amplification, which was a bit of a concern. And, of course, I had expressed some doubts about placing them after the meal. But they went fine. I certainly heard every word. And they were well delivered, very funny, and generally good examples of the craft. It seems Chris is far more of a rogue than I'd taken him for.

(I also have to take a moment to reply to something Chris said in his speech: no thanks are necessary; it was my honour.)

And so, we came to another gap, while the marquee was cleared prior to the Barn Dance. A gap that was filled with drama, as Grandma fell and hurt herself. Not so good.

At the appointed hour, I returned to the marquee to find le Welsh and le Tart already esconced. So, I thought, it seems I have some competition in the dancing stakes after all...

It was my first Barn Dance, and it turns out that it is indeed much like a Ceilidh. However, the music is rather slower than at a ceilidh, and there seems to be rather more emphasis on group dances. Also of note, and despite the predictions of CJ to the contrary, there seems to be virtually no overlap in the dances. (Although, during the interval Chris and Juliet let it be known that they'd arranged this with the caller. I don't know how true this actually was, or if it was just banter.)

Anyway, the first dance featured a bit where each couple was dispatched to pull a new couple up onto the floor. And so, shortly after the start, I found myself up and dancing with cousin Jo. And, when the time came, it was time for le Welsh and le Tart to join us, despite her initial protests.

Little did I know that this would be the only time they would take the floor! So much for the claims that, "the Welsh can outdance the whole lot of you! ;)" Still, that did provide conversational fodder for later, so wasn't all bad. (Also, in fairness, there was some evidence that this might have been the case. The Barn Dance features 'the Swing', a move that doesn't feature in ceilidhs, and which I never got quite right. As far as I could tell, only one couple seemed to have it mastered...)

There is a secret to Ceilidhs, which also applies to Barn Dances, and especially when you don't know too many of the people there. And that is to keep an eye out during the early dances for all those people who look like they would love to dance, but just haven't been asked yet. When it is my avowed aim to dance all the dances (and thus do my part towards keeping a full dance-floor; also a prerequisite for a successful dance), it is important to keep this in mind. This is where the seating at the meal proved its value, for there were really three circles of people at the dance: Juliet's family, Chris' family, and their friends. And with little exception, these three groups didn't mingle too much. And my family seemed distinctly disinclined to dance (boo!).

Fortunately, my sitting next to Meredith at the meal gave me an opening to the 'friends' circle, and thus provided me with a dance card for the night. Huzzah! And so, I succeeded in my quest.

At the interval, there was a buffet. I'm told it was good. Sadly, buffets are murder on diets, so I was forced to abstain. Still, I took the opportunity to remind le Welsh of her claims of Welsh dancing supremacy. Which is important, of course. We talked about many other things, including the relative likelihood of various other bloggers dancing. (Well, just one, actually.)

After the buffet, Chris and Juliet danced their First Dance. (Unusual positioning, I thought. Have I mentioned that it was an unusual day.) And then the Barn Dance was to resume. Clearly, I thought, the thing to do would be to ask le Welsh for the next dance. Cunning, no?

Well, apparently, no. Instead, she and le Tart took this opportunity to say their goodbyes and depart. Foiled! Snsn Frsn.

I made it to bed by midnight that night. Frankly, I'd been fighting fatigue since seven, so I felt I'd done my bit by then.

Sunday, I got up at 8am, had breakfast, and gradually made my way through the day. I had planned to head to the Games Room, but never quite made it. I did read a couple of chapters of my book, which is also quite good. And ate barbeque. That evening, we played Trivial Pursuit (the Genius Edition from 1983). It was quite odd. Also, we played boys vs girls, which turned out to be rather unbalanced teams. My team won, of course. Bed was at 1am.

Then, on Monday I got up at 9am, packed my bags, then packed the car, and then CJ and I (plus little PJ and the princess) departed for our journey home.

It was a very good weekend. On the Weedol scale, it rates five dandelions out of five.

(Congratulations, you have made it to the end of this post. I did say it was a bit of an epic!)

The Steph/ven Recognition Guide

Tomorrow morning, I'm leaving to travel down for the weeding, and it occurs to me: how will people recognise me?

Having pondered this at length, I finally decided that the best thing to do was to draw a picture of myself, which can then be used to recognise me. So, if and when you see me, feel free to ask to see it. I'll be the one looking a bit like me (not too much like me, you understand; I don't want to make things too easy).

Seriously, though, I should be quite easy to spot. I'll be the guy in the kilt. And, if you're there for the gathering on the Friday, I'll be wearing my t-shirt with frogs on. That should be distinctive enough.

Byeee!

The Return of Kilt/Man

On Saturday I attended the wedding of two friends of mine, Graham and Shona. It was a good day. (For those who were there, Graham was Andrew's best man when he got married two years ago.)

The day began much as it went on, being very cold. However, despite the hanging clouds, there was an absence of rain. Apparently, a very small amount of snow fell during the day, but I missed it. All in all, this was about as good weather as can reasonably be hoped for in November.

Naturally, I arrived at the hall early, resplendent in my kilt and other assorted finery, not least of which were some rather spiffy Dalek cuff-links that were presented to me as a gift from the couple. As an added bonus, my kilt and jacket now fit rather better than they did a few months ago, as my weight has now returned to close to where it was when I was measured for these things (actually, I may now be just under where I was back then).

Now, if I'm being honest, I have played better. To a very large extent, this can be blamed on the cold, which not only numbed the fingers quite badly (not a terribly good thing when playing a demanding instrument), but also caused the chanter to become rather shrill. However, there was a rather high incidence of errors.

That said, there was only one that was serious, and it came in the first set, before many people had arrived: as the set was coming to the end, so buoyed was I with the early success that I decided to segue straight into another set entirely. This would have been a great idea, except that I segued into the wrong set, and specifically a set that I hadn't played the second tune of for some months. So, suddenly I found myself playing... I don't know what exactly. It was not good.

(See, you'd think that a person could just play whatever tunes in any order and at any time. After all, a tune is a tune, right? But, actually, this isn't the case at all; the brain gets used to one thing following on from another, and simply shifting gears doesn't work terribly well.)

Still, I cut that short, and retreated to more familiar ground. The rest of the piping was okay, if not brilliant. (I will, however, need to do something about that. In the next months there may again be call for my services...)

Anyway, I played, and the appointed hour came. At this point, I wondered how much longer I had to play - the piper plays until the bride arrives, and it is her prerogative to be late. And, with only one exception, every bride I can recall has been late, to one extent or another. Still, it was a nice day, so there would be no harm in carrying on for a bit...

But no! Shona arrived almost exactly at the appointed time. So, that would be two brides in the history of the world. Surely there could never be a third...?

(For those who want to know: it was a classic white dress with a short train. Mostly, I remember the veil.)

At this point, then, I offered my standard salutation, congratulation, and compliment. (These three elements are standard; the form of the three varies. In general, I've found that 'lovely' and 'radiant' are good compliments to use; 'magnificent' is overblown, 'splendid' disingenuous, and 'spectaclar' mis-spelled.) Then I ventured into the church, my work done for the time being.
There then followed the service, which was nice. Weddings generally are. This time, the couple took what I considered the risky step of inviting people to come up and offer a blessing and/or prayer. This is a fine idea in principle, but I say risky because one never knows what a person is going to say. Still, it went fine.

And then it was back outside, a couple of quick pieces of piping (on the emergence of the couple, and then playing them to the car), and then the wedding party departed to the Botanic Gardens for their photos. And so, I had some time to kill.

Some time later, the wedding party returned from what was, by all accounts, a rather chilly time. There was then a short period of mingling, and then a gathering of powers for a group photo, and finally people took their seats for the meal. Then I piped in the top table, the happy couple, and so I was done for the day. Huzzah!

Then came the speeches. Placing these before the meal is, in my opinion, quite wise. Public speaking is apparently the #1 fear of people in general, and at an event like a wedding this must be even more true. Of course, it has the down-side that the bride (in particular) hasn't eaten since the hairdresser arrived, and so is probably starving by this point. (And, besides, many brides don't eat for some weeks before the wedding in order to fit in their dresses. Frankly, it's a miracle more brides don't go on crazed cannibalistic rampages. Perhaps I've just been lucky that I've only seen this happen a few times.)

The meal was provided in a multiple choice format. With the invitations, we had been asked to express a preference for food, and had duly done so, and had duly forgotten entirely what options we selected. The starter was prawns with melon or a tomato and coriander soup (so, soup for me); the main course either chicken or beef, either way with potatoes and seasonal vegetables (chicken); the dessert was an alcohol-free trifle or a fruit salad (trifle). It was very nice indeed. No chips, though.

Over dinner we discussed saving the planet, fast food, and John Sergeant. Sadly, these were separate topics, and not the proposal for a new show in which John Sergeant will don the golden arches as the symbol of his new superhero guise.

After the meal, while they rearranged the hall for ceilidh purposes, we retired to other rooms within the community centre. Indeed, we found ourselves in a meeting room, where we took advantage of the opportunity to discuss the Africa Situation. There was a significant amount of thinking outside the box, the better to leverage our potentials. Or something like that.

And then, that silliness completed, we returned to the hall for the first dance, and then for the ceilidh itself. There are too few ceilidhs, I feel.

Anyway, as I hold the title of Knig, hail from a place that sounds a bit like Camelot, and an considered to be the lord of the dance-floor (despite that pretender to my throne, Captain Ric), I felt the need for a quest. As I already have a grail, though (it's verrrry nice), my quest would be to dance every dance at the ceilidh. Except the first dance, of course, but that doesn't really count.

Of course, dancing every dance is no easy challenge, on several counts. The first is the sheet exhaustion that this will inflict. People laughed when I revealed that I had come prepared with my very own towel. They laughed slightly less when they realised the genius of this move, for indeed it was genius.

The second challenge is that one inevitably requires a partner if one is to dance. And around half of my usual card were absent from the festivities, while several others were laid low by myriad non-ceilidh-related injuries and illnesses. And, as the state of my love life will attest, boundless confidence is not something I can call upon when dealing with women. (Nor did it really help that I had to drive home, and so must needs had to remain sober. Then again, maybe that did help - alcohol tends to make me really quiet.)

Fortunately, I am never caught without a backup plan, and it was this: for the first ceilidh dance, I partnered with one of my friends. While traversing the room, then, I kept an eye peeled for all those girls who were watching from the sidelines with a "oh, how I wish someone would ask me to dance" look about them. See, it's quite crafty.

And so, as the evening progressed, I made my way about the room, inviting one poor girl after another onto the floor. Indeed, it was noted that I did not dance with the same girl twice (except right at the end, when most people had left, when I again danced with one of two partners from a Dashing White Sergeant, but that doesn't count). Mostly, I just didn't want to get tied down.
And so, willows were stripped, Swede masqueraded (possibly as turnips; I wasn't quite sure), and two-steps were stepped twice. Even the dreaded helicopter dance was a triumph unheard of, as Gordon and I were paired with two fairly slight girls, allowing for a far greater degree of lift than is frequently the case.

And so, the quest was reckoned a success. And there was much rejoicing. Huzzah!

Of course, the ultimate challenge remains. I have heard it said that there may be a barn dance in the offing in months to come, and so the question: will the lord of the dance-floor continue his reign? Truly, this is a mystery of great depth, especially as I have been forbidden to study the dances ahead of time. As if I would be stopped by so minor a thing as not having a clue what I'm doing...

The emergency piper

Just before I reached the car park in Glasgow, my phone rang. I consequently ignored it, thinking that if it was important then they'd either phone back or leave a message. And, indeed, they did. The message was from the wife of our former pipe major, asking if I was available to play a wedding today.

Today!

As if completely by chance, my game was cancelled today, due to one of my friends thinking I was in the States (long story), and so it turned out that I was available. So, I went, played, got paid, and it was good.

Still, it's a bit odd being asked to play on the day of the performance. (What I think happened is that the PM took the gig some time ago. His job has taken him away for a while, and I suspect he forgot until this morning that he was supposed to play. And so, the call went out, "Help!")

It has been a strange day.

Tick, tick, tick

It has been an eventful weekend.

On Saturday, Captain Ric was married to Leigh (finally!). I would normally be inclined to say more about the event, but I suspect that none of the readers of this blog actually have any interest in weddings or the associated shenanigans, so I'll spare you the details.

I will note, however, that this ticks off another of my non-Resolutions for the year. I was moderately pleased with my piping at the weekend - I have played better before, but on only one occasion. And, critically, the 'important bits' were perfect (those being the Processional, the Recessional, and the piping in at the reception).

Fortunately, the weather was nice and sunny before the wedding, so I didn't mind a jot when Leigh was somewhat delayed - it is of course the bride's prerogative to be late on her wedding day, but it is rather more pleasant for the piper when she's late on a sunny day than when she's late on a December evening when freezing cold rain is pouring down from the skies (oh yes, I know that one well). Saturday's snow waited until after the service, when the wedding party emerged from the church.

So, that's three sisters I have piped down the aisle (technically, one sister and two sisters-in-law, a distinction that's only important in that Andrew and Richard are my actual brothers), which leaves one to go.

The second thing that I was able to knock off the list was an awkward conversation. To a certain extent, this was covered two months ago, but I wasn't entirely happy with the resolution there. Well, it's now done, finished, and complete. I'm still not going to tell you any more than that.

However, I will say some more about the third item to be removed from my list on Saturday. As one of the best men, I was considered a member of the wedding party, which in turn meant that at the tail end of the first dance, when the MC called on the rest of the wedding party to join the happy couple, I had the not unpleasant duty of taking the floor with my pre-assigned bridesmaid. (Leigh had made sure to assign a specific partner for each of the bridesmaids. There was a good reason for this, which I'm not going to share with you. Although, given the nature of the people involved and the nature of the day, I suspect it was always an unnecessary precaution.)

Now, at school, I learned all the ceilidh dances, so I'm pretty confident with these. However, at school they did not teach a slow dance, on the grounds that obviously everyone knows how to do that, right? And, at a dance in late December, I found myself dancing such a dance, and deeply unhappy that it really didn't work out as intended. Hence, "There's a gap in my skill-set that needs to be closed up before it is shown up." (And, before you note that no-one would really care about anyone other than Ric & Leigh at this point, I would point out that there was 100% camera coverage of the dance-floor. So, any mistake was liable to find its way onto YouTube for my eternal mockery.)

Of course, the nice, easy way to solve this conundrum would have been to ask either of my pre-existing sisters for a quick tutorial. Amongst their many other talents, they are qualified teachers of dance. I decided on using an entirely different solution, though - I just ignored the problem and assumed it would go away.

It turns out that there isn't a damn thing wrong with my dancing. In December, my partner for the dance was an eighteen-year-old girl I really didn't know, whereas on Saturday I was dancing with Kirsty, a girl who I do know at least a little, and who is slightly older than eighteen, and therefore rather more confident in her skin than my previous victim. The upshot of all of this was that the whole thing worked rather better. However, the other key difference was that in December I was also attempting to balance a penny on my forehead, something that wasn't a necessity on Saturday. Apparently, that matters.

So, I'm removing that from my 'to-do' list. Taking a dance class might not be a terrible idea anyway, but the motivation for doing so wouldn't have anything to do with actually learning to dance. Which leaves just two items on the list: moving house and visiting a new country.