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iDo take Twitter and Facebook…

iDo take Twitter and Facebook…

Various websites have poured scorn on a groom who updated his Facebook/Twitter accounts as soon as he got married.

The thing is … I think it’s a mildly neat idea. In my ridiculous fantasy head of how I get married (and bearing in mind the fact I’d have friends/family on three continents who would probably want to see it happen, purely as ‘Finally, he got off his arse’ witnesses as opposed to anything else), I’d have to broadcast the proceedings via webcams and the like anyway. So I might as well use Facebook / Twitter as well. Hell, I might as well have plasma screens that unveil themselves as the deed is done reflecting the changed status update, and let people #hashtag about how great the catering was.

Then again, having been to about ten incredibly luxurious weddings (to my head) over the years in castles, manor houses, country estates, remote Welsh chapels on hillsides, museums, an old college – and registry offices – I’m also of the opinion that:

  • I don’t need no stinkin’ wedding photographers. They’re good, but very pricey for it. At least half the audience would be Chinese, after all, and therefore come with ridiculously large and expensive D-SLR cameras. I would, however, need a shepherd to herd everyone together for the required joint photo shoots.
  • I may need a film cameraperson – but at least ten of my friends know how to shoot video. Or I could just wear a helmetcam.
  • Flowers. Pah. Who needs them?
  • Who needs a banquet? Pah. Give me a buffet!
  • Who needs a disco? Pub quiz, that’s the way to go! Or maybe Rock Band, or Dance Dance Revolution…

Of course, I may not be the one who has a final say in these matters…

"Feels like I'm wearing nothing at all!"

"Feels like I'm wearing nothing at all!"

At the weekend, I was honoured (and somewhat surprised) to be an usher at my schoolmate‘s humanistic wedding in Edinburgh. Which necessitated the hiring and wearing of a kilt. Specifically, one with a “grey thistle doo” tartan, which has become my current gibberish phrase of the week.

Once the patient lady in the hireshop had told me how it all fits and hangs together, it made sense. The waistcoat (thankfully) managed to corset me into a straight position and hide the worst of 33 years of eating.

The kilt did feel rather weird, in the sense that it felt like I was wearing nothing at all below the waist. But I’m reliable told I looked good in it, and it also felt quite comfortable – especially standing on a warm summers’ day. I tend to overheat and sweat at weddings, and previous attempts to wear cream linen suits led to me being described as a colonial gentleman – not the best phrase attached to my appearance.

Top tip – if you’re going to wear pants and not be a true Scotsman, wear some tight ones. I kept having to be rather undignified and pull up my pants at every available opportunity. But then if you don’t wear pants, how on earth do you sit down without creating skid marks on the chairs you sit on ?!

The wedding went off without a hitch despite my being an usher, and the bride looked absolutely gorgeous with a smile that could probably be seen on the moon. Despite my worries about what being an usher involved, all I had to do was tell people where to sit, and chase after them for photographs. I even got a lovely vase for my troubles. And it was good to catch up with my schoolfriends and their families. I think I’ve even introduced some of them to Facebook

Other random things about Edinburgh:

  • Good gosh, when it rains, it pours. I got absolutely soaked at the bus stop. But when the sun shines, it’s glorious.
  • I thought the Scottish Parliament (which sat opposite the wedding venue) was literally a bunch of flats. Shame, really. At least the Senedd looks like an imposing government building that’s been designed.
  • Scottish people are incredibly friendly. Just the right side of friendly. Even when inviting you into a *crowded* pub full of people singing Queen songs.
  • The Scottish accent does wonderful things. Even an argument between a chav couple somehow becomes melodic and tuneful.
  • Haggis. Dear sweet gorgeous scrumptious haggis.
  • Edinburgh is a fabulous city. Love it. Maybe even more than London.
  • No matter how much I try to drink, I can’t seem to get drunk any more. No idea if this is a good or a bad thing.
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