Wedding Way Out West
West of Embra, at any rate.
The groom had earlier said that he was planning to wear the kilt, not to the service but to the reception afterwards as a wee surprise for his bride. "Oh, really? And what's the tartan?" asked Mr Farty in all innocence.
"Och, she'll be wearin' a white dress," he winked.
It was a warm day as the sun valiantly attempted to break through the dense barrier of Scotch mist. Guests were congregating around the church, chattering animatedly as the ladies compared handbags and hats, while the menfolk debated the much more meaty matter of the price of a pint.
Eventually, everyone trooped inside the kirk and picked their positions in the pews. The bride arrived fashionably late, looking radiant in her thigh-length wedding dress.
"Haud on a minute," she explained, "Ah've jist got tae finish feedin' the
wean." Shortly the infant was unplugged from her breast and thrust into the arms of a rather surprised looking matron at the back of the church. "Mind this fer a minute woodje?"
"Do you -"
"Aye!"
"And do you -"
"Aye!"
"Right. Let's get tae the bevy."
There's nothing like a long-lens camera for catching innocent moments like this one. (Little tykes refused to pose for their pictures.)
Red Hat Lady veered into view. "Mr F," she declared. "You're a guid photographer." It was a statement rather than a question. Mr Farty nodded in acknowledgement and she went on. "The bride's wearing a garter," she explained, "but naebody has taken her foty with it yet. Ah was jist wondering if you might be prepared - no, dinnae fash yersel, I'll see tae it that nae charges are pressed this time. Jist dinnae drool too much. And keep both hands on the camera. And fer feck's sake try tae keep yer sporran on."
The father of the bride demonstrated the Highland Stagger. Christ, in two years that'll be me, then, thought Mr Farty.
Talking of which, Little Miss Farty and her beau were also in attendance. "Be careful no tae get mah feet in the foto," she warned. "Ah'm no wearin' mah shoes!"
Being the soul of discretion, Mr Farty cropped his daughter's feet out of the picture. See?
Tattoos - the ultimate fashion accessory. Mr Farty was sooooooooo tempted to airbrush this one out.
There's something magical about a wedding. Innit?
Buy it! Now!
11 comments:
My husband is learning how to play the bagpipes. He's been after me for years to get him a kilt, and my answer remains "hell no." Luckily the pipe band has their own uniforms, so when he is proficient he can just wear one from their closet. His family has a tartan, but apparently it involves a lot of pink.
Marie - In the right hands, a set of bagpipes can bring a tear to my eye. In the wrong hands they can make my ears bleed!
I'm of the opinion that there is a bagpipe gene. If you have it (as I do), you think bagpipes are one of the world's sweetest sounds, stirring your blood even if you've never set foot in Caledonia. If you don't have it, you think it sounds like a bag of angry cats...
Oh my goodness, but I just realized that one of my students from here is actually up your way studying English and working on her bagpipes and Scotish dance! Have you seen her? Tall Japanese girl wearing a kilt? I'm happy to say that she graduated from the "oh my God, please stop my head is about to explode!" kind of playing to "well...that's actually quite nice" before she left! I can't wait for when she comes back!!!
The wedding looks lovely. I oopsidently clicked on the "Invisibul Dawg" photo and it expanded into bigness. When it did, I realized that even if I didn't know you, didn't know the picture was taken by you, and couldn't see the kilts - I'd have known it was a UK wedding because of the HATS.
Women here rarely wear hats. And I don't think I've ever seen one of those "vegetable tureen turned upside down and painted black" ones except in photos of your queen Liz when she visited our king georgie.
Well photographed Mr, F. Obviously taken before the hooch started flowing!
#Debi - That would explain why my South African son-in-law, who has only visited Scotchland a couple of times, is so keen on the bagpipes that he has his own set. And why his Scotch wife insists that he plays them only when she's out!
Debbie - You might think that a Japanese girl in Embra would stick out like a sore thumb. Think again. And all the tourists wear kilts. Srsly.
Sew - Oh, our women love the hats. There's a brilliant rule that none of them can remove their hats until the mother of the bride does so. Mrs F plans to keep hers on all night at our daughter's wedding >:>
John - Ach, the camera does all the work. Mrs F's one evens picks out faces and focuses on them, FFS!
Wow, that is your daughter?? She's beautiful! Must take after her mother. ;-)
Jacki - If LMF took after her dad, she'd have a beard!
Red hat, no knickers.
That explains the tummy bump!
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