AT LEAST one member of the Royal Family is happy at the moment, and,
despite my sympathy for the Prince and Princess of Wales, I did enjoy
the media coverage of the wedding of the Princess Royal and Cmdr Tim
Laurence at Crathie Church last weekend. Of course, Old Camperdown and I
had not really expected to be invited this time, although ''Big A'' (as
we used to affectionately call her) did introduce us to Tim last May,
when we were all reeling away together at the Royal Caledonian Ball in
London.
The Princess Royal is colonel-in-chief of the Royal Scots, and one of
her five ladies-in-waiting, the former Araminta Luarde, is married to a
brigadier in the regiment. I remember winking at Camperdown when I
noticed Cmdr Tim and Araminta spectating from the balcony while her
husband was busy partnering the princess in the formal set reels which
commence the ball. I knew then that something was going on, and the next
day the newspapers were full of it!
Funny to think back to when Araminta was living in her little mews
house in the Haymarket district of Edinburgh and so busy bicycling
around the city. Now there she is, always a few steps behind, always so
smartly dressed! I was thrilled when she married dashing Charles Ritchie
from West Linton, particularly since Alistair, his banjo-playing
brother, has been a great favourite of mine since his Glenalmond days.
All the same, I can't help feeling a bit sad about Anne and Captain
Mark, but then people do grow away from each other. I remember the first
time I ever saw them together. It was when they were courting back in
1972, in August, and we were all at the Johnson-Fergussons at Newpark,
near Annan, for dinner before the Dumfriesshire County Horse Trials
Members' Dance.
The following year they came again, arriving in her green Reliant
Scimitar. They made such a handsome couple at the time, and after we
attended their wedding at Westminster Abbey, I actually ordered a colour
poster of one of Norman Parkinson's engagement portraits. It still hangs
on the pantry wall and I really must remember to take it down.
Divorce can be such a traumatic experience for all concerned, and I do
so feel for the Queen with all her children splitting up. Nowadays so
many of one's friends have been married to so many people it is hard to
keep up. Personally, I keep a little black book specifically to remind
me who was married to whom and when, absolutely invaluable in
Inverness-shire, and essential for house parties in Ayrshire.
In past years, Camperdown and I have usually made up a party for the
New Club Winter Ball, but we decided to go on our own last night since
tickets were being restricted to just over 300. This was the club's
140th Christmas ball, and not so long ago it was considered to be very
much the grandest ''do'' of the Scottish winter season. Alas, it has
simply not been the same since Edinburgh District Council turned those
once rather magnificent Assembly Rooms in George Street into a
multi-purpose community centre, thus forcing the ball committee to make
arrangements elsewhere.
It looked momentarily as if we might have been returning to the
Assembly Rooms again this year, but the excuse given was that the
building was being turned into a Euro-Cafe to coincide with the
Euro-Summit and they were unable to confirm the availability of the
Music Room, which, since this is where dinner is served, posed an
obvious difficulty. Honestly, considering the summit ended last week,
what on earth were they imagining would still be going on? Being my
usual inquisitive self, I popped my nose round the door last night and,
goodness me, the whole place is full of antiques up for sale!
WELL, under the circumstances, the ball committee and Archie Orr
Ewing, New Club secretary, very rightly agreed to holding a dance on a
smaller scale in the club building itself. Such a pity they no longer
make Highland Dress or white tie mandatory. Black tie events are never
as smart. Personally, I always make a point of wearing long evening
gloves, but nobody seems to notice nowadays.
All the same, The Auld Reekie Scottish Dance Band who played in the
Morning Room were splendid, and I loved the 60s/70s dance music in the
Long Room. I made an absolute pig of myself with the oysters, Guinness
and ice cream -- absolute bliss. I am justifiably proud of being
possibly the only regular who, over the years, has never claimed to have
suffered from bad oysters the following morning. Simple answer: stick to
beer or champagne. If you wash 'em down with spirits, like Camperdown,
you're asking for trouble.
And tonight we are off again, this time to Auchterarder and The Black
Watch Ball being held at The Gleneagles Hotel. Camperdown looks just a
little the worse for wear, but, the Black Watch being a Perthshire
regiment, and having so many family connections, I am determined to go.
Besides, Fiona, our daughter, is home from Strathclyde University, and,
although she does appear to have shaved off most of her hair, I am very
much hoping somebody will ask her to dance.
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