My daughter got married a couple of weeks ago.
Read that again.
It was one of those glorious days we often get at the end of September, with the sun low in the sky and the photographer crawling over bridges and under hedges to get the best light.
We showed up in style (I think so, anyway), and my speech went over well. At least four drunk Scotsmen told me how much they liked it, and they should know.
Waiting for the pictures from the photographer so you can see me with my Claymore.
Yeah. That was a thing. A joyous thing.
