White Wedding

Despite being up north just last week, I returned to my birth home (like a birth parent to an adopted child, the birth home will always be part of you no matter how much you try to forget it and adopt a new accent) for a joyous occasion. An old school friend and her fiancé, another old Dingwall alumni were joined in holy matrimony in Strathpeffer.

The bride, the fabulous Tania, wanted a more personal wedding than the generic standard fare and whilst the wedding formed the same basic mould there were a few Tania-twists that made the whole thing even lovelier. It was held at a Strathpeffer hotel and due to the ropey weather the initially planned outside ceremony was swiftly set up in doors (well, you can dream). However the inside chapel-esk hall was very nice and in particular I thought the female (gasp- a woman!) registrar was really wonderful. The twists of the wedding included woman giving speeches at the meal (as Tania said- why do only the men get to talk?), she had no bridesmaids, there were 2 best men and the most out of mould thing was than she did not wear a white dress. No, instead, she wore a delightful pink flowing, cut to the knee number with a lovely flower pastiche at the side of one strap. It reminded me of heather and seemed very Scottish.

Now on the topic of outfits, this brings me to one part of weddings that fills me with great pleasure- seeing what everyone wears. There was one gentleman in particular that really caught my eye. I suppose no one had ever told him that it is bad etiquette to wear white at a wedding or maybe he knew that Tania was not being a tradionalist, but this chap turned up in pure white crushed linen suit. And it gets better. Not only was he wearing this dazzling beauty with a half way down unbuttoned blue Hawaiian style shirt, on his feet were white leather loafers. Actual loafers with a snazzy design. To top it off he was one spray tan away from being a mahogany chest of drawers. Whilst obviously all eyes were on the bride (and the groom, I must say Chris looked splendid in his charcoal coloured kilt) there were also a few on this fabulous chap. (I must mention at this point, whilst I was desperate to get a sneaky photo of this chap, I quickly got far too filled with let’s say ‘love and joy’ and was away ceilidh dancing for the majority of the evening and promptly forgot to take any snaps of him so anyone who was at the wedding who reads this blog, if you have any please, please, I beg you, send them to me.)

Later that night I sneaked over and asked quietly in the bride’s ear and asked who he was. How had she met such a divine creature? She replied he was one of Chris's Territorial Army buddies.

Well.

Don’t ask, don’t tell.