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 -"
"And do you -"
"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?