Thirty years (and counting)

It’s our 30th wedding anniversary today.

My mother, who was married to my father for 58 years, considers that a “triumph”!

Clare and I met at a pyjama party in Edinburgh in February 1990. She was living and working in Glasgow while I was in London.

Two years later – having shuttled back and forth every other weekend and visited most corners of the country (Skye, Cornwall and Orkney come to mind) – we got married at St Bridget’s Church in Eaglesham, a village a few miles south of Glasgow.

Built in 1858 ‘to provide a local place of worship for Catholic villagers, many of whom had settled as refugees from the Irish potato famine’, St Bridget’s is tucked behind a neat row of sturdy Victorian houses overlooking the Orry (or Common).

We chose it because it was a mile or two from where Clare grew up but we also wanted a small wedding and didn’t want to rattle around the much larger church in Clarkston where her mother is a parishioner.

We invited about 40 people to the service - which began at ten o’clock, if I remember - and afterwards we led everyone across the common to the Wishing Well tea shop where there was tea, coffee, cake and champagne.

We had to keep an eye on the clock because, of those 40 guests, a smaller group - about 18 very close friends and family - had been invited to join us for dinner at our favourite hotel in Skye.

Hotel Eilean Iarmain was a five-hour drive from Glasgow and we didn’t want to be late!

The drive up the west coast of Scotland is one of my favourite journeys but you need good weather to enjoy it properly. Fortunately we got lucky because the sun shone and we were spared the low cloud and persistent rain that frequently obscures the view and dampens the spirit.

Better still, everyone arrived at the hotel, which is in the south of the island overlooking the Sound of Sleat, in good time for drinks in the bar followed by dinner in the small wood-panelled restaurant.

There we stayed for two nights before embarking on our honeymoon which meant driving all the way from Skye to Heathrow (with a pit-stop in Glasgow) followed by a nine-hour flight to Miami.

Even then our journey wasn’t over because after arriving in Miami late at night we still had to catch a short flight to the Florida Keys.

There a car belonging to ASI president Madsen Pirie was waiting so we could drive to Madsen’s holiday home that he had very kindly put at our disposal.

(I have just written to him reminding him of his generosity because it was very much appreciated.)

Anyway, after a week in the Keys we returned to Miami so we could fly to the Cayman Islands where we were to stay with friends, one of whom - my best man Bill - was working as a corporate lawyer on the island.

Today they live in Ireland and I see them whenever I’m in Dublin on business.

One thing I should mention is the return flight from the Florida Keys to Miami.

At that time many domestic flights to small provincial airports in the US were served by small twin-propeller aircraft with no more than 20-30 seats.

Perhaps they still are but I wouldn’t know because I have never had the courage to book one again!

In my very limited experience they were noisy, cramped and prone to bumpy landings but nothing prepared us for that particular flight.

At one point, as the pilot attempted to navigate around a thunderstorm, it felt like we were on a roller-coaster and I'm not too keen on those either.

The door to the cockpit had flung open and we could see the pilot fighting with the controls although, to be fair, he sounded calm enough. In fact, I think he was enjoying it.

The moment may have lasted no more than a minute but it was one of the longest minutes of my life. At least Clare had her rosary beads for comfort!

Our flight to Cayman experienced some turbulence too but I’ve been told this is normal for the Caribbean where hot air rises from the islands/land below and disturbs the air above. (Is this true?)

It didn’t help that the plane we were on had been chartered from Bolivian Airways, or ‘Oblivion Airways’ as someone unhelpfully called it.

Anyway, I’ll spare you the details of the last 30 years other than to say we lived in London for the first eight months before moving to Edinburgh where our children were born in 1994 and 1997.

After six years in Scotland we returned to England in 1999, settling in Cambridgeshire where we still live.

To mark our 30th anniversary I would have liked to have gone back to Skye but Clare wanted guaranteed sun (like our honeymoon!) so instead we are going on a cruise.

Meanwhile here’s a thought.

Our honeymoon coincided with the 1992 General Election that took place on Thursday April 9.

When we left these shores Labour seemed certain to win but when we returned it was John Major (remember him?) who was in Downing Street.

And the rest (Black Wednesday, New Labour, Tony Blair) is history.

Above: with our friends Gary and Helen Ling who I have known since university. I met Clare at a party at Helen’s flat in Edinburgh.

Below: cutting the cake (made by my mother) at the Wishing Well tea shop in Eaglesham.