Sorry for the delayed update from the road. By and by an explanation will be produced for this great pause in communication. Really, it all started not long after we last spoke on Thursday. Friday we got ourselves together to take the train up to Scotland. Besides consolidating ourselves to one suitcase for the week away, we also needed to pick up diapers and a quick lunch before the departure.

We found the diapers {but I should say nappies since we’re in the UK} and some snacks for the road {hello, pan au chocolat, I missed you} and the Hubs and I grabbed some chips {but I should say crisps since we’re in the UK}, and what have since been dubbed the chicken wraps of death. We won’t mention the name of the supermarket, but it starts with S and ends with ainsburys.

And all seemed right with the world.

After a quick lunch we were headed to the train to the tube to Kings Cross Station, to take the train up to Scotland.

And all seemed right with the world.

But as we made our way up the largest of the British Isles, as the light began to scatter across the green sheepy fields in the way that it only does in Scotland, and as the long hours of a Scottish summer day were drawing to a close, and we were nearing that sweet train station destination where I first arrived to settle in Edinburgh six years ago, suddenly

all seemed not right with the world.

And by the time the last train journey of the day brought us to our dear friends and hosts (life looked like this when we last were together)


they were offering us dinner and we were asking where the loo was.

And through the night, we got exceptionally well acquainted with the bathroom of their new home.

Hero Hubs seemed to experience a slightly more expedient recovery, and we managed together to muster the strength to make it to the wedding ceremony the next day.

There was a slight drizzle about as we made our way to the absolutely breathtaking church near Linlithgow Palace (gorgeous!) where the beautiful moment took place. I am SO glad I cowgirled up to be there. The bride looked beautiful and so joyful, the groom dashing and kilt-bedecked… love and joy in abundance. The music and readings were very well-chosen, and it was all just so special.

{The father of the bride and mother of the groom, and then father of the groom and mother of the bride, skipping down the aisle after the blessed event… awesome and priceless highlight.}

Very very very sadly, I had cowgirled up for as long as I could, and the Hubs, too, was pale and weathered, and we weren’t able to continue in the fantastical merriment. Meaning: we couldn’t enjoy the reception or the ceilidh, and that was a BIG bummer. My heart is still sore about it.

But the pledging of two loves to one another, in love and faith before God, that really is the highlight of the day (besides folk skipping down the aisle) and I am ever-so glad we were privileged witnesses of that special event.

{Congratulations, Grace and Gordon! We were so happy to witness you two tying the knot!}

In summation, the S to the ainsburys chicken wraps of death rained on the wedding day for us a little, and we were still a little worse for wear on Sunday, but we enjoyed being at church {a story for another day} and catching up with friends throughout the afternoon and evening, and were afterwards anxious to return to the beds from whence we’d risen.

And now to set about the business of enjoying the rest of our time in Bonnie (rainy) Scotland…