Our daughter’s wedding in Troon was beautiful, and I now understand two things:

1. Why my son-in-law was so keen to have a Scottish wedding (because they are amazing).
2. Why the Romans decided they would never defeat the Scots and so built a big wall (large young men in kilts are quite a force).

The week before had been lovely, with our ‘clan’ making their way north. It was really lovely that so many people made the journey, and it made the day very special. My sister even came from Canada, and my brother drove the grandparents up from Surrey. I had worried that not many family would come, but they did, and it made a big difference.

The day passed in a blur, so we are now eager to see everyone’s photos—because there is no time to take your own when you are part of the wedding party. I began at 6 am, checking the house we’d rented was clean and tidy, preparing a few last decorations. A Waitrose order arrived at 8, the florist soon after, and by the time the last bridesmaids arrived the house was full of laughter and perfume and young women staring intently into mirrors. I was wearing the ‘Mother of the Bride’ sweatshirt my daughter had given me, and was busy preparing food, and offering drinks, and checking that all was on track.

Time suddenly sped-up, and all of a sudden it was time to pin on flowers and distribute bouquets and check everything we needed was in the car. I had allowed roughly 2 minutes to change myself, which was a mistake, and I spent the journey to the venue checking my dress wasn’t inside-out and trying to stop my hat bouncing on the roof of the car, while distracting my daughter so she didn’t get emotional. We had disco music playing, which was completely inappropriate, but it kept the mood light.

As we arrived at the venue, Donald, the piper, stepped onto the drive. He then led the way, playing his bagpipes. It was rather special (there is lots about a Scottish wedding that is special).

The guests were all seated in rows and we waited in a room at the back, out of sight. My two sons were there, grinning at their sister in her pretty outfit, managing not to make funny comments. I straightened my daughter’s dress, told her she looked beautiful, and then the celebrant was announcing my arrival. I walked down the aisle with my two sons—smiling hello to my brother and sister, hoping my hat didn’t fall off, looking for my name on a seat. The front of the room had flowers, and a glass wall, and a view of the sea.

Music played, and the flower girls walked to the front, holding hands, looking perfect. Then the bridesmaids, one at a time, remembering not to hurry, all young and elegant and matching the flowers. Donald started his bagpipes again, and I knew that Husband and my daughter were coming, but I felt suddenly emotional, and I didn’t want to cry, so I twisted my face into funny shapes (hoping no one captured that in a photo!) and stared forwards.

The ceremony bit was short and interesting. The celebrant was very professional, and told funny stories about the bride and groom. There was the legal vow, and then a hand-tying ceremony, when she threaded silk ties between them, and they pulled, and there was a knot. (I knew the saying, ‘tying the knot’ but hadn’t realised it was a thing.) They also drank from a double-handled cup—another Scottish tradition.

There were photographs outside, and time to chat before the meal. The weather was dry. I will write that again, as it was October, in Scotland—the weather was dry! My hat didn’t behave though.

There were speeches, and people stood for the toasts (like they are supposed to, but rarely seem to any more). Dinner was delicious.

Daughter (and others) changed into clothes suitable for dancing, and the bride and groom cut the cake and did a dance (which was actually very good, and not at all like the dancing I remember from her ballet days when she was ten—no skipping in circles). Then we all joined a Caleigh dance (which did involve skipping in circles).

One of the very best bits was right at the end, when the last dance was announced and everyone made a big circle (not me, because I knew what was coming and there were a lot of slightly drunk, very large young men wearing kilts and a wild look in their eyes). They sang the Loch Lomond song, with arms linked, and then gradually started to move forwards, squashing the bride and groom who were in the middle. They did this a few times, before lifting them on their shoulders, and dancing them round. I checked my daughter wasn’t going to bash her head on the ceiling, and then enjoyed the moment—it was quite something with all those deep male voices, and flashing colours of the kilts, and energy. An exciting end to an exciting day.

Thanks for sharing the day with me.

Take care.
Love, Anne x