Wedding bells

No, not for me of course being too independent/bloody pathetic (delete as applicable) for such a union. Family wedding time back home on the west coast. Great, not in a church. Oh, it is a religious ceremony… Female minister has as one of her readings a segment of Paul’s letters tot eh Corinthians on the virtue of love. Odd choice as I seem to recall he was one of the early Christian missionaries who was incredibly mysoginistic. Still, pretty service marred only by lack of room in my sporran for both my wallet and my hip flask full of 20 year old single malt (and none for the MiniDisc to listen to surreptitiously during the boring bits of the service).

Pleasant as it all was there is nothing like seeing your little cousin (by ten years) getting hitched to make you feel old and the fact that all weddings, like most big social functions, are designed for couples, so it rather reinforces your isolation – come along and look at the dateless wonder! Depressing in the extreme these occassions for some of us. The dreadful disco and the consequent drunken dancing aunties and uncles which are mandatory on such occassions were as awful as you would imagine. The meal was lovely though and it was still nice to see so much of the family again, including the Canadian chapter, who were camped out at my parent’s house, so it was pretty crowded. Like all weddings a mixture of lovely moments and depression-inducing ones (gee, a bit like marriage I guess!).

And yes, I did wear a kilt, resplendent in my Clan Gordon colours (which a member of Clan Gordon of 200 years ago would never have seen of course, but hey, that’s Walter Scott and the re-invention of Scottish identity for you). And no, I did not wear any pants under it – when I strut my stuff in plaid I do it the proper way. But I had forgotten how awkward it is to go to the loo in a kilt! Basically face urinal, grasp kilt front with one hand, perform the Carry on up the Khyber maneuvre, aim and fire. And look out for drips and little cousings trying to put cameras under your kilt.