Another Big Fat Wedding - Only Gaelic!!

This weekend we have been in Ireland, Northern Ireland to be exact, attending the wedding of his Lordships' nephew. He is the Bravehearts son, a Scot, he married a beautiful Irish girl. As you can imagine it was a wild weekend, with kilts, whisky, and lots of dancing.

The weekend started at 4am on Friday morning... yes I did say 4am!! We had decided to get an early start so that we could make the most of our time and do some exploring before the wedding. It seemed like a good idea at the time, however it was a rather grumpy St Jude heading off to the airport that morning. I think I finally woke up somewhere over the the Irish Sea. Forty minutes after the flight took off we were heading into the baggage hall and twenty minutes after that we were heading for the east coast and a lovely morning exploring. All I can say is that if you ever have the chance to visit Northern Ireland go for it.

After lunch at the Giants Causeway we decided to head to the hotel. This was also the venue for the wedding so we were going to meet up with the family. We were also going to be meeting up with a strong contingent from the Scottish rugby team, as our nephew had played rugby for Scotland. After checking in and a little snooze later, we headed to the bar for a little light refreshment. It would appear that the rest of our side of the wedding party had, had the same idea! So after half an hour of introductions to a variety of Gregs, Duncans, Iains, Ians, Judys, Maggies and all manner of people in between we finally managed to make it to the bar. After a couple of small snifters we decided to head back to the room as we were all meeting for a meal later in the evening. Well we're not getting any younger and we need to pace ourselves. The meal passed without any difficult moments, this was possibly down the fact that several of the 'rugby' team had been given strict instructions to behave nicely.

After a good night's sleep it was the wedding day, it was also my birthday :0) An Ulster fry for breakfast, (make that two Ulster frys for the rugby boys), and we were set for the day ahead. Some last minute finishing touches to the outfit courtesy of his Lordship, were completed with nail polish and a tooth pick. One of the stones fell out of the clasp of my jacket and in the absence of glue I can highly recommend nail polish... just make sure that it is the clear stuff!

We headed off down to the wedding room and took our places. I was excited to see not only the bride's outfit but also what 'party games' we would be playing at this wedding. Never fear I didn't have to wait too long, glancing about the rows of chairs it became obvious with all of those kilts, yes! it was a knobbly knees contest. Little did I know that this would later metamorphosis into something entirely different!!! Sadly the wedding was over all too quickly the vows recited and the readings performed then out into the garden and the now glorious sunlight for the photo shoot. I have to say however that it was somewhat cold. Talk about 'chapel hat pegs', I hope they can be airbrushed out of the final photographs otherwise they won't know whether they were attending a wedding or a sex worker's conference.

The photos taken we headed inside to the wedding room once more, this time the party game was musical chairs. It would appear that there is a limited stock of chairs in the hotel so they have to move them around, they were now on their way to the reception room. So with that we headed through to the next room where they were serving mulled wine and pink champagne. Neither I have to say are particular favourites of mine, but you have to join in don't you. After some amiable chatter to an already inebriated Irish chap with an accent so thick you needed a dictionary, it was time to move onto the reception and the speeches.

It had been decided that they would 'do' the speeches first, I think this was to enable those doing the speeches to a) remember them, and b) not slur their way through them. The Brides Father gave a glowing eulogy about marriage and it's charms, under the omnipotent gaze of his wife. Then the Groom said his piece, thanking all manner of people and presenting the usual flowers to his new Mother In Law, however when it came to his own Mother he was as caring as ever, merely pointing her in their direction. It fell to a gallant young Scots man on our table to rescue her and present them on bended knee. Then came the best man... the entire room fell silent, the Groom head in hands trembled slightly in anticipation. All was going smoothly until the final moment when the groom recounted the story he had heard of how the young couple had met. It would appear that they had met whilst on a trip with a number of friends to London. The 'now' Groom had decided that he would like to take a trip to Soho, he was in his youth, and so after perusing the delights on offer decided to head for the nearest bar to ponder, whereupon he got into conversation with 'one of the girls', now his Wife. Wrong!! Accompanied by much stuttering and stammering the Groom blushing furiously stood up and attempted to explain that this was not the truth. Much to the amusement of the gathered Rugby contingent, who were actually in on the joke with the Bride. Shame nobody thought to let her Father know beforehand.

Needless to say after some posturing and a little pushing the Rugby contingent and the Bride owned up and all was well again. That part of the entertainment over and the meal complete there was nothing left but to play musical chairs again as they slowly made their way to the ballroom with the rest of us following on. As we seated ourselves the band struck up, and all at once there appeared to be what can only be described as a 'scrum' on the dance floor, kilts swinging violently this way and that and not the lightest of steps thundering around the room, and with that the dancing had started. With only a moment to catch our breath his Lordship and I were catapulted into the fray and twirled, whirled, jigged and reeled to within an inch of our lives. I have to say that if you have ever had a go at Scottish dancing you will know that there is no escape once you are up there, and if in doubt just hook the nearest arm that comes your way, it worked everytime.

By the end of the evening we were exhausted, it was just as we were leaving that the Rugby contingent decided to get into full swing, and I mean that literally... what on earth is it with men in kilts, everytime I turned around there was yet another grinning mischievously as his kilt headed skyward. There was more 'tackle' on display than at a fishing contest! As the raucous revelry continued into the night a very saintly St Jude headed for her bed.