INSPIRATION ON SUMMERISLE ~ THE WICKER MAN - Scotland. (sample)
Derek Pike
It is the middle of July and in true British fashion the rain is bouncing down on the bride and groom. It’s a shame, as otherwise this is an almost perfect moment. Friends who my wife and I met at uni are having a fairytale wedding in the chapel of Edinburgh Castle, being an officer in the RAF, Matt, the groom is allowed to do this sort of thing. It’s a fantastic experience, American tourists clamour around to see whose getting hitched in the vain hope that another Spice Girl is marrying another footballer or that Elton and his partner David Furnish are finally tying the knot, but alas, today they are not, however this does little to dampen the excitement of the raincoat and tartan umberella covered mass who fire questions to us lowly guests in the manner of a press conference.
Vows are exchanged and guests are ferried by hired coach to another equally impressive Scottish castle just North of Dalkeith for photos, speeches and the Gay Gordon. The sun stays out long enough for photos and then the heavens open once more. This is perfect for a Bootle boy like me as I am in my element, posh nibbles in one hand, champers in the other, I’m standing in front of an enormous open fire in a Scottish castle looking out over rain sodden windswept heathers, a luxury I’d have once only dreamed of. It’s almost comical really, the people I’m with are garbed in beautiful dresses and suits and we’re talking house prices and IKEA, and these are the very people who were living on mouldy cheese, toast and lager and living in what only claimed to be comfortable accommodation when I first met them almost ten years ago. Some people hate getting old but I find it highly amusing.
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