It was while we were at the Oban reunion that it struck me
that, perhaps for the first time ever, the three ladies to whom I’d been
bridesmaid were all at that same event.
Marina’s wedding came first and
took place at Tarbert Parish Church, Lochfyne. A well-known local character was
Billy Lang, who had Down syndrome. Billy had a wee weakness for weddings and
insisted on having his photo taken. This became such a regular occurrence that
having her photo taken with Billy was more of a good-luck charm for the bride than
receiving the traditional horseshoe.
Marina’s marriage to John marked a milestone
for our mother: a Church of England Sassenach had been brought into the family
fold! My brother, in turn, married a
south-of-the-border lass who was a Roman Catholic. I thought that being ‘three
times a bridesmaid’ conferred immunity from the marital status on me. However, when
the time came, I felt that in choosing a Greek Orthodox groom, I completed our
mother’s geographic and spiritual education!
Margaret’s wedding, in the same church, went
off without incident - that happened on our way back from Campbeltown where we
had gone to buy china, the traditional bridesmaid’s gift to the couple. A
Land-rover had taken a corner too wide and I don’t know what we reacted more
strongly to: seeing this vehicle hurtling towards us or realising that its
driver was none other than Paul McCartney whose farm, High Park was not far from
there!
Jean had chosen to have a
registry wedding - probably the first in the area. Her mum had a wicked sense
of humour and was convinced tongues were wagging about a bride pregnancy!
However, those wagging tongues were stunned into silence at the reception when
the best-man took his place next to me at the top table – he was a man of
colour. An awkwardness descended as guests did not know how to react. But this
young man, a doctoral student at Edinburgh University, had it all under control
and began his speech so:
‘You’re probably wondering why I
was chosen to be Max’s best man.’ All
eyes remained floor-fixed. ‘Well’, he
continued, ‘it’s obviously because in such situations if embarrassed, I don’t
go red!’ Gales of laughter and applause ensued. Ice broken, all night that lad
was treated to copious amounts of whisky!
Recently when down in Athens, I
had the chance to meet up with two good friends: Angeliki, my co-director of The Tartan Epsilon, and Marisa, who
runs the CELT Athens teacher-training
centre. Below Angeliki and I are
enjoying a meal by the sea at Nea Makri, while Marisa and I pose in her
beautiful new premises.
On return to Thessaloniki, I managed to squeeze in a quick lunch with
Fay, Director of the Bi-lingual Program
at Anatolia College. We three share the same professional area and often
the same take on various issues. Each one has many professional demands made on
her, and each one is coping with difficulties of people close to them: unemployment,
sickness and the demon adolescence. Yet, when we meet up, albeit briefly, we
support each other, stimulate each other and always have fun.
And that got me thinking: what do we call that kind of
relationship? ‘Best friends’ belongs to
the school yard; ‘girlfriends’ has romantic overtones, as does ‘lady-friends’
with its additional coy connotations.
So I have coined a new term. It
expresses that special, enduring relationship shared with our soul-sisters as
well as their serenity, beauty and fragrance. My sister, Marina, and I raise a
glass to…. our lady-buds!
