Salutations™!!
At 7am (our time) this morning marked the fifth anniversary of The BCPF’s and my wedding day. It was noon local time. I’m actually reprinting the story as told by me on September 9, 2014.
Alright, it’s time for the wedding story. So The BCPF had stuffed her wedding dress into a vacuum bag and sucked the dickens out of the bag until it was a brick of white mess. Of course, I had to take her word for it because I didn’t get to see it. As I mentioned in the last post, I already had the kilt and had to do the “hiring” of the accessories. She unleashed the dress and handed it off to the concierge (or the castle’s equivalent) and they sent it off to have it pressed. So we were set. We got up, had breakfast (more haggis and black pudding), and then went back to the lobby to wait for what-happens-next.
We had hired a wedding planner, Kimmie Brown of Litú, was a treat and a lifesaver for us. Kimmie handled getting all the paperwork put together, she and her husband, George (updated: George has since passed away, RIP, George), served as our witnesses, she got the piper, Andrew, hired the photographer, Michaela Waddell, and lined up and directing us through the process of the registrar. Priceless, I tell ya, priceless. Also, we had already pre-selected our vows and ceremonies. So when the time came, we were pretty much prepared. I put on the kilt kit that turned into a much more involved procedure than putting on a tuxedo. The kilt shirt, first. The kilt, next. The waistcoat, the socks, the flashes, the ghillie brogues (shoes) and then the sporran (the man purse of awesomeness), which held it (mostly) in place. The Prince Charlie jacket was next to last and then the sgian-dubh (pronounced skee-un-doo) which is a small knife that rounds out the ensemble. I’ve lost a bit of weight since I was originally fitted for the kilt so it was a bit loose. Tradition says that I don’t wear a belt with the Prince Charlie jacket, but in the future, I certainly will wear one (I have already purchased one to wear once back home). And the part everyone has asked me… yes, I went unbreeched. Aye, that means I didn’t wear anything under the kilt. If you’re gonna do it, do it Scottish, I say.
I wasn’t allowed anywhere near The BCPF while she got ready, but when it was time for the wedding (noon for us in Edinburgh, 7pm for our friends back home), the piper piped me downstairs to the “gun room.” The gun room doubles as a chapel for the religious ceremonies and we used it as a location for our civil, non-religious, ceremony. The registrar talked with me a few minutes and then Andrew piped The BCPF down to the door and then after making sure she was ready, piped her down to me. She was BEAUTIFUL. I don’t have pics of her at the altar, just yet, so we’ll have to wait until the photographer sends me the collection. I cried, no shame in telling. We exchanged words, vows, and rings. We kissed. We signed the paperwork. Michaela shot us all over the grounds of the castle and that was it. It truly was much more glamorous than I just described but without pictures, I can’t do it justice. It was simple but wonderful. She was my wife, my bride, my life’s partner – which she already was. Dang, I love that woman!
But, as is the story of our lives, there was no rest for the wicked. We had to jump out of our formal wear and into civilian clothes and run back into town to get our last-minute shopping done. We bought stuff for 3B (my 12-year old son) and my mother. We had reservations at the castle for dinner so we headed back and took our place in the Library Bar, drank some complimentary champagne, talked to a slew of Americans who were also taking holiday, and then went down to the Dungeon Dining Room to have our wedding supper.
We started with an amuse-bouche which included a mushroom mousse and bread. The BCPF had a chicken pate and I had beef carpaccio. Our minds not being still and sound at the time, I forget what the actual dish was, but there is a picture of it. For the main course, she had a slab of pork and I had venison with beet sauce. I’ve never been big on venison (or beets for that matter), but man this was delicious. For dessert, I had a raspberry flan dish, and of course, Grand Marnier. A truly lovely food experience.
I still get giddy about it and love telling the story. I could have rewritten the whole thing but I think writing about it just one week after, it was fresher in my mind and I don’t think I could have done it justice.
So, to Stephanie, my The BCPF, I love you profusely and am happy with my life with you. And, thanks to everyone for celebrating our anniversary today. You call it Labor Day, but to us, it’s so much more!
Until tomorrow, same blog channel…
Tim out!
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“I like being married. It’s an institution that I like.” – Aretha Franklin
I went downstairs to the Library Bar and awaited my witness and our planner; they were a package. I removed my jacket to get more comfortable. I was offered a drink and chose my favorite libation of them all, Grand Marnier. It came in a quaint snifter and was warm and sweet and allowed me to close my eyes for a second and take in the situation. George, my witness, and his wife Kimmie, our planner, came in and introduced themselves and told me how things were going to work. Kimmie had me put a Boutonnière in the jacket lapel. I was then met by the registrar who went over the pertinent info and explained what to expect. I nodded and agreed.
I looked down at the box and the faintly sparkling stones sitting within it and said, “I got a ring…?” She finally said, “yes!” Whew, I thought I was going to fall over. I thought I had all this figured out. I thought there was no way she’d say no. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. She said yes. Yes. YES! Cap’n Ron announced what had happened. We were
