A wedding in Perth

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A Thistle

Louise and I attended a wedding at the weekend, in Perth, a lovely city we visited not that long ago.

We got up early, packed the car and headed off. A brief stop off to pick up our buttonholes, thistle for me (to go with the kilt), rose for Louise, and we were soon Perth-bound.

The last couple of times we’ve driven up we’ve always seemed to have problems arriving via the route on the provided map. Not a huge problem normally as you can just drive around until you get your bearings. But it does become an issue when you must be in a specific place at a specific time if, say, you are attending a wedding. Once again we got it sort of right, but couldn’t quite figure out the final few streets.

So, let’s just say there were a few “disagreements” and several “No, not THAT bloody right, THAT one!”, and leave it at that.

Thankfully Perth lies on the banks of the Tay so there is a very easy, and very obvious marker from which to orientate yourself and we did manage to find the hotel in plenty of time. In fact, we hardly had to rush at all and I most certainly DID NOT stab myself with my Sgian Dubh (pronounced, skee-n-doo, a small ceremonial knife that is worn tucked into your sock).

The wedding ceremony was a simple affair, completely agnostic and even featured yours truly reciting My Love Is Like a Red Red Rose. I distinctly heard the bride say “that was sprung” as I returned to my seat, but I’ll let her away with it… it was her day after all (and truth be told, I’m glad she did, it was an honour).

Back to the hotel, where we met Natalie —the other ‘blogger’ in attendance— and chatted to a few of the other guests. It was certainly the most multi-national wedding we’ve ever attended, at our table alone there was a Latvian, two Canadians, an Australian, an Englishman, and an American Indian. OK, the last one isn’t strictly true, but she did marry one… There was most definitely a hungarian or two in the room (the groom and his parents) and if you listened closely you could hear the occasional smattering of Dutch, Swedish and German. I think.

Alas, at this point, my story falters. I had developed a headache in the early part of the afternoon and it soon became apparent —the waves of nausea when my main course was placed in front of me being a major clue— that I had a migraine. Louise stayed for the rest of the meal, but we both missed the reception and I was so looking forward to seeing what all the differing nationalities would make of a ceilidh!

However, it was a good day and it was wonderful to see two people who have been through so much, finally bound to each other. Louise and I wish you all the best for your future.

Sunday morning, we rose, had breakfast and then, figuring that nothing would be open at 9am on a Sunday morning, we went for a drive, enjoying the frost covered fields as the sun slowly clambered into the sky.

A couple of hours later we headed back to Perth. We had intend to stop at Cherrybank Gardens to see what it was like in the winter (having enjoyed the autumn displays) but there must have been an event happening as it was completely mobbed, with the car park overspilling into the street. As we were both looking forward to a quiet Sunday stroll amongst the heathers we quickly turned the car round and headed for the peace and tranquility of home.

9 comments

  1. Hmmm… “Sgian Dubh” is awfully similar to the Irish Gaelic scian dubh. I’m guessing it means the same thing, “black knife”, in literal translation.

    The pronunciation is different in the common Irish dialect though, more like schkee-an dove. In the northern Irish (Ulster) dialect it’s pronounced the same as the Scots, with a soft “bh” (ooh) rather than the common Irish “v” sound.

    If any of that made sense to anyone not from Scotland or Ireland, you’re very clever.

  2. As the wikipedia article I linked to suggests, Matt, it does indeed mean ‘black knife’. Honestly, you think I add those links for fun!! 😉

    And I’ve heard the pronounciation from both sides of the Irish border and can confirm that, yes, none of you lot can say it properly…

  3. i’m so gutted that we couldn’t make it – it sounds as if it was quite something. i was looking forward to your reading as well. all the best to the chameleon and her wonderful, new husband – i hope to see them soon.

    and yes …. photos ?

  4. See, that’s the thing. I didn’t take that many, I was holding back to get some candid shots during the reception… and there were a million other people with cameras, snapping away during the ceremony. I did snag a couple though, will dig them out.

  5. Finally Chameleon got around mailing me your e-mail and link. I am truly sorry you got sick and who knows when wen and where we meet again. I will add your blog to my bookmarks, looks nice. I posted two pictures and about the hen party and wedding… With a comment on the the ‘dancing’. All the best to both of you.

    Tumbleweed who married an Indian :))

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