The house feels quiet now, after the utter madness of the week before. Everyone who travelled to Dunblane for the wedding has now gone, the whirlwind stilled. There will be another mini-whirlwind this weekend as Calum and I pack for our honeymoon and move back to Singapore, but for now there’s a moment to sit down and think about everything that’s happened.
Of the ceremony itself I find myself focusing on and remembering tiny details. The way my dad gripped my hand tighter than I held his. The fact that I barely recognised Calum’s friends as I came down that long, long aisle. The two tiny spots of blood on Calum’s shirt collar from where he had nicked himself shaving. The undone button on the minister’s robe. How blessedly cool it was inside the cathedral, because it had been boiling in the tiny room we were getting ready in and roasting outside (thank you, random heatwave in usually cool-and-rainy Scotland).
There were less people there than we had hoped for – and it would have been great to have shared the day with some others who hadn’t been able to make it – but that turned out to be a blessing in disguise as it allowed for the whole day to be just the sort of laidback celebration that we wanted. (Not to mention the fact that there would have been injuries if we had any more people flinging each other about during the ceilidh.)
That was sort of how things went: they didn’t go to plan, but turned out to be better that way. Nothing illustrates this better than the Great Ring Crisis of 2014, which is so brilliant (or awful, depending on your outlook on things) that it deserves to be recorded for posterity:
My last blog post was written in a calm moment on the morning before, while the house was still fairly quiet and most people were asleep. Things seemed to be falling into place, and I couldn’t think of anything else that needed to be done. My blog post was accordingly succinct.
Ten minutes after it went online Calum’s best man, Dave, said, “Well, I should probably get the rings together and hold on to them.”
Calum’s ring was duly produced. Mine… wasn’t.
For months I had been convinced that I had handed the ring – bought on Etsy as a custom order – to Calum’s mum for safekeeping in her jewellery box. She had no memory of it. The ring wasn’t in the jewellery box. Nor any of the other little jewellery boxes we found in the house, both upstairs and downstairs. The lots of tidying up that had been done to ready the house for guests meant that it could have been anywhere, accidentally stuffed into a box in a bag in a basket in a cupboard or something.
Around noon, it was decided that we would be better off trying to get a new ring. What ensued was a rushed trip down to the local jewellery designer, then to Stirling to check out those stores.
In the end we settled on a rose gold ring at the local designer’s. It was the most beautiful ring we’d seen (better even than the original ring I had picked), and also the only one that had actually fit my finger. And so things worked out in the end, with about 20 hours to spare.
Everything seems a little surreal now that it’s over. Part of me can barely believe that it’s happened at all, this event that we’ve been planning for and looking forward to for so long.
But what I can remember is the feeling of well-being that has been at the core of this week. The simple glow of happiness that comes from being surrounded by family, to know that everyone around you loves you and wishes you well. When all is said and done, it’s that feeling that I will always remember from our wedding; knowing that our joy extended far beyond us at this big moment of our lives.