The Maryculter House Hotel is over an hour's drive from Macduff, so we decided, last year, when we got our invite, to book a room for the night, and make a weekend of it.
It all started well. We had just got our new car, after our 'Happy' car had died on the Banff /Portsoy road a few months before, with a fatal timing belt snap. All was well with the world. We set off in plenty time, giving ourselves a bit of time to enjoy the room and have a cup of tea before getting ready for the wedding. We arrived and were unpacking our 'gear' when Robin's face went a whiter shade of pale,
"I've forgotten my kilt".
Now folks, this is when being married for 22 years comes into it's own....we panicked and started firing out all the possible options that didn't involve Robin standing in front of 100 people with just his boxers on his lower half. Can't go back, not enough time...can't go to Asda in Aberdeen and buy a suit... I mean, really! I hit on doing a Google for the nearest kilt shop and we found one with the help of the very kind receptionist that was 10 minutes away in Peterculter ( yes, pronounced Petercooter ). We phoned them and found they were about to shut, so shouted Robin's sizes and kilt type down the phone and drove off to pick it up. Phew...yes, you may think so.
We got back to the hotel to get dressed and discovered that the zip on my dress was jammed, I mean, what are we meant to do, nip out for a new dress? No, I found that if I stretched up tall enough and Robin pulled hard enough it could be forced over my head and down my svelte figure ...I mean talk about team work.
The day went well apart from one of the guests ( male I might add) taking a shine to Robin and stalking him throughout the evening, getting to the point where we had to retire early to our room as I was concerned about being threatened with not appreciating how good I had it with Robin as my husband!
The next morning after a lovely breakfast we headed out to the car and found the back tyre was punctured( the result of going to pick the kilt up and turning the car near a building site). We almost laughed, but then, gave that a miss when we realised that our new car didn't have a spare tyre, just a foam kit to fill the punctured one with. We managed to follow the instructions and eventually headed home at 40 mph as you weren't allowed to go faster according to the instructions.
Anyway..all in the past...all in the past...
As we drove up to the Hotel this time, , down through the magnificent grounds, there were little bunny rabbits munching on the grass by the side of the drive ( we wondered later if they had brought them in as part of the Disney theme) and the sun was shining. We bravely parked in the same space as last year, confident that even if we did get a flat this time, I now have a 'real' spare tyre in my boot and AA membership, so we are prepared for anything.
The Hotel is a beautiful turreted old family home and has amazing grounds and a character filled library with stone walls, hanging tapestries, deer's heads and period furniture that is quite stunning, to sit in and relax at your leisure.
Ashley and Steven live in Westhill, just up the road, but most of their family are local folk, so we knew a few of the 120 faces as they started to drift in for the ceremony.
Ashley had 4 bridesmaids who looked beautiful in tourquoise ( Cinderella) satin and as the bride was piped in on her Dad's arm to Highland Cathederal, she looked every inch the Disney princess in layers of white flowing tulle and with touches of silver and diamonte on her bodice.
While All the photos were being taken we all went through to the bar where there was a roulette wheel and a card table with 'fun' croupiers and everyone was given a token for '£200' to play. Also a magician who we have seen before and looks scarily like Brian Burnett from Radio Scotland, entertained the guests and made balloon swords, hats and flowers for all the kids. These eventually made their way on to the heads of a few older guests as the evening wore on.
We sat at the 'Tower of Terror' table with familiar faces. Gwen and I have known each other since our eldest girl's were babies and we were in a 'Mums' group. We would go and chat about our kids and enjoy the company and those are friendships that have lasted 21 years. It was great to have a catch up and as the meal wore on Gwen confessed that she and Gary had once been wedding crashers themselves.
They were to go to a friend's wedding in the church of a small village called Portessie ( pronounced Portessie). They came up to the church and had their photo's taken as they went in to sit on the bride's side. Only then did they look at the order of service and realise that the name of the bride wasn't the one that they were expecting. They quickly dashed out of the church and found ' the other' church in Portessie and managed to catch their real friends saying their vows. Gwen hoped that they would never be found out, but as they had had their photo taken on the way in to the first wedding the bride eventually decided to do some detective work. When the photos came back she bumped in to Gwen's friend, presumably in Portessie, one day, and asked her if she had been missing a couple of guests on that day. On describing them, bride number two knew exactly who they were and called Gwen to find out the whole story. To this day, they are still in the wedding album of a couple they don't know...I bow to their genuine crashing skills.
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