Been to the chapel

Mes Amis

Let me re-iterate a point I have often made: dancing hurts. Ceileidh dancing even more. Even if I only got in one orkadian Strip the Willow last night (as best man you must spend much time schmoozing) I was also dancing away to other less traditional classics with less well defined dance-moves such as our bands rather funky rendition of Play That Funky Music and, well, its all begun to blur but what fun it all was (and its a rare sight to see a Russel dance).

The speech was actually far more fun than I thought. As these things often are. The trick, as everyone kept telling me, is to walk the line between gentle mockery and outright savagery. Apparently I was nicer than everyone expected, but with the groom in question its hard not to be. In fact I know no one with a less scandalous past. And when his major vice is cups of tea... heh...

Anyway, it all went down very well and the groom and the bride's father gave fantastic speeches, too. And the ceremony was very well done indeed.

Although the kilt poses many practical problems. Such as the fact it is bloody hot. And when dancing the sporran must always be moved to one side. Or. It. Hurts.

Yesterday was an immensely sunny day after the evening before where the rain came smashing down with a vengeance and the Church sprung a leak (there was a momentary fear the bride would not be walking sedately down the aisle but rather treating it like a waterslide). Which meant the photographs will look amazing. And with the spectacular out to the water from the reception venue, I don't think the bride and groom could have been any more pleased. Of course I always feel sorry for those whose special day it is as, really, they never get a moment to themselves. With relatives and friends alike jostling for attention to give congratulations. Trying to get them from the church to the car was... a challenge.

Anyway, now that's out the way I supppose I have no excuse for not writing. Which means back to the grindstone..

Au revoir

Russel