The following morning we woke up to a beautiful, clear day and decided to walk around St Andrews. It was Raisin Weekend, but the town was surprisingly quiet – students in my day were made of sterner stuff. We hit all the big sights – the cathedral ruins, the castle, the pier, the harbour, and the quad. It didn’t take long – St Andrews is a small place.

St Andrews Cathedral ruins

St Andrews castle

St Andrews harbour

The main Quad at the University of St Andrews

Looking into the Quad from North Street

St Andrews Cathedral ruins

Matthew standing at the top of the pier

After careful consideration, Matthew decides not to complete the pier walk on the top of the pier (which is very narrow and about 15m above the sea). It seemed like a less-clever idea then in his student days…

Aude standing in front of St Andrews Cathedral

Looking into the cathedral

The rest of the trip was very much a combination of revisiting my old student haunts and celebrating our engagement. I’d put my organisational skills to work and the hotel were ready for us with a big suite, a plate of smoked salmon, and champagne on ice.

Our suite at the Old Course hotel, St Andrews

Champagne and smoked salmon

The bathroom sink was worthy of a photograph

Chromotherapy Jacuzzi. Or a fancy way of saying “Jacuzzi with coloured lights”, which proved important. The water in Scotland is brown because of all the peat in the soil, so you need the coloured lights to disguise it!

Aude, overlooking the Old Course

The final hole of the Old Course, with Hamilton Hall in the background

The Old Course

The Old Course

My legendary organisational skills were let down somewhat by dinner. Having failed to secure a reservation at the new seafood restaurant in St Andrews, I decided that I would wing it on the night. St Andrews in November – surely it wouldn’t be too busy?

Students must have more money than in my day – because the concierge at our five-star hotel couldn’t managed to get a table anywhere at all in St Andrews. We ended up eating at the hotel, which was actually a blessing in disguise. Aude had a superb piece of Scottish lamb and I had some wonderful venison, overlooking the Old Course.

We headed out onto the town and confirmed my thoughts – students definitely have more money than in my day. All of the bars have gone upmarket, wine-bar chic, which defeats the point. I can find that in London. St Andrews used to have loads of cozy bars with big fireplaces, but those are almost all gone. One or two remain, but they’re the exception rather than the norm. After a swift half pint in a couple of my old haunts, and a few aborted attempted at other old haunts which were now crap bars, we headed back to the hotel. We sat in the bar and drank single malt Scotch in front of a roaring fire. Just the way to end the night.

We woke up the following morning to a stunning, sunny morning. The plan was to head up to St Andrews, my alma mater and a nice place to spend a Saturday afternoon. We arrived just noon and headed out for lunch at the Central pub – one of my favourites (apparently one of Prince William’s favourites, too – but I found it first!)

We finished lunch, jumped into the car and headed out to the West Sands. We parked the car and headed off for a walk along a secluded part of the beach. And when we reached an appropriate spot, I sat Aude down, got down on one knee, and proposed.

The West Sands, just outside St Andrews

Matthew standing on the West Sands

That all sounds simple enough. But it’s been hurdle after hurdle getting to this point. I found the ring I wanted, but it was halfway around the world in Sydney and the logistics of getting to the UK were too complicated. Onto plan B – have the ring made locally.

I found the diamond I wanted, but couldn’t find anyone to make the ring. Then I found someone to make the ring, but he couldn’t find the right diamond. Diamond Merchant A wouldn’t do business with Diamond Merchant B. By luck as much as anything else, I finally found someone who could produce both the diamonds and the design I was looking for, and I commissioned the ring.

Aude’s engagement ring

I went to collect it last week only to find that it wasn’t quite right – so back to Antwerp it went for some further modification. I went back this week to collect it – and got a phone call at the same time from my partner (in the professional sense) asking where I was. From my vague answers, he concluded I was interviewing for a job – so I had a lot of explaining to do when I got back to the office.

Ring safely in hand, all I had to do was get it to Scotland without Aude noticing. Everything was going fine until we went through airport security, where I managed to get selected for a thorough search. I had to urge Aude along so the game wasn’t given away.

Even when we arrived, Aude was determined to put barriers in front of me. She rejected the first place I offered her to sit on the basis that it was too dirty (it’s a beach, for heaven’s sake, not a hospital!). Enormous signs warned us of the dangers of fast-rising tides, and in the back of my mind were thoughts of being swept out to sea.

Aude’s first reaction, being a woman, was to burst out in tears. Here’s a hint to all women – if you’re going to burst into tears, do us men the courtesy of giving us an answer. Otherwise, we put ourselves through the treacherous debate of “are those tears of joy or is she feeling sorry that I’ve misread the situation so badly and she’s wondering how to let me down gently?” After what seemed like an eternity (and with a little prompting from me) she gave me the answer I was waiting for.

We woke up the next morning to pouring rain – not exactly what you want to see on your friend’s wedding day. We jumped in the car and drove over to Glasgow only to get hopelessly lost – with the wedding only two hours away. Bloody Google maps.

We finally made it to the hotel only to discover that the church was an hour away, not ten minutes as I had assumed, and that we had no idea where it was. Luckily we bumped into the groom heading out. He pointed us towards a gathering of his relatives, and in the end we all went in convoy.

The rain was relentless but nevertheless Karen and Mike had a lovely service. We all headed back to the hotel for the reception – and full marks to Karen (because we all know that Mike had nothing to do with it!) – it was a really wonderful reception. It was everything you expected of a Scottish wedding, with haggis, neeps and tatties on the menu and plenty of Scottish dancing to keep us on our feet. It’s been a while since I’ve been in Scotland and seen so many kilts, but I was definitely the odd man out in trousers. Mike’s, in particular, looked great – he’d opted for the less-common hunters’ tartan, a nice change from the normal dress tartan.

Dave is delighted that Mike and Karen are getting married. He can’t hide his excitement!

Marc, on the other hand, is playing it cool as a cucumber.

Matthew poses for the camera

A piper leads in the bride

Mike and Karen’s first dance

First kiss and cutting of the cake

The part of the wedding every guy looks forward to!

Well, perhaps not every guy. Weddings are boring if you’re only seven.

Dave and Matt share a joke or two…

Admittedly, this is the sexiest dance partner Dave has had in a while. But you’d think that he would try to contain his enthusiasm a little bit…

The new bride

A dance move known to all of us as “the Mike”. So famous it even made the best man’s speech!

Darryl and Marc give it a little…

Proof, as if any were needed, that Aude is easily amused

Only at a Scottish wedding!

It’s been a very full weekend. Headed out to City Airport on Thursday night to fly to Edinburgh for my friend Mike’s wedding. I’d deliberately booked City to avoid the chaos at Heathrow – it’s a small, city-centre airport which traditionally advertised ten-minute check-in.

Well, that was clearly in the pre-terrorist days. We arrived an hour and a half in advance of our flight only to be told that we wouldn’t be allowed through security until 30 minutes before. The airport was absolute chaos – it’s designed for people to clear security immediately upon checking in, and therefore has no place to wait landside – all the seating is airside. We gave up in the end and found a restaurant to grab a bite of dinner.

When we finally made it to security (putting our liquids of 100ml or less in a clear plastic bag, for whatever that accomplishes), I managed to get selected for secondary screening and a bag search. Which was a disaster (check back in a few days to find out why!). Bag search complete, we were finally through to the lounge. Our flight was called shortly thereafter and we were on our way. I settled back into my seat and began to relax.

Then I heard the dreaded “[Bing] Would passenger [me] please make himself known to the flight crew?” I pressed my call button and was asked to escort the flight attendant to the front of the plane.

“I’m very sorry, sir, but your suitcase appears to be vibrating,” she said.

A quick march onto the tarmac and a search of my bag revealed a rather over-enthusiastic baggage handler had managed to switch on my electric toothbrush. “Terrorist incident” resolved, my bag was loaded back onto the plane. I passed two chuckling pilots and a handful of laughing cabin crew on the way back to my seat, where I sat with my tail between my legs.

Excitement over, we had an uneventful flight to Edinburgh and landed just a few minutes behind schedule, thanks to a certain passenger with luggage issues. I collected my rental car (a VW Jetta TDI – a cracking little car) and we were off on our Scottish adventure. We stayed overnight just outside Edinburgh, in a room overlooking a field of sheep.

Just a few shots from Mike’s recent wedding in Glasgow — I have nearly 600 photographs to wade through, but I thought I’d pull out a few to start with just to get the ball rolling.

What the hell was I thinking when I agreed to this? No more whiskey for me!

For anyone taking notes — this is how to wear a kilt. Mike pulled off the hunting tartan very well indeed!

This picture embodies exactly who Mike is as much as any I’ve ever seen. That isn’t about patting myself on the back — it’s about being in the right place at the right time.

Matt and a collection of former colleagues. L-R, Marc, Matt, Dave and Darryl

Why Matt doesn’t dance. Because jumping isn’t the only thing that white men can’t do.

Aude’s hopeless under the influence of Matt’s charms…

Aude took the sweetest photo I’ve seen in ages.

Dave took a nice shot of the two of us…

Lots more photos to come when I get a chance to edit them, but I wanted to get something up straight away. Enjoy.