Shop with Alain de B'Argain

Editor Dave — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 09:57:07 +0000

Shop talk with
Alain de B'Argain

Our charity shop reviewer returns to the Outer Hebrides to attend Editor Dave's wedding and to observe some local wildlife...

READERS MAY RECALL that I honoured the Hebrides with my presence some months ago. It was not my favourite destination. The Save the Children outlet in Stornoway unsettled me with its predilection for fudge. Worse, I had to endure the attentions of The Brunette’s Uncle Murray, a hideous man whose teeth lead me to assume he has eaten nothing but fudge since removal from his mother’s tit.

As you can imagine, I was not best pleased when The Brunette announced that we would be returning to north-western Caledonia for the charity sector society wedding of the year - of Mr David Pitchford, controversial editor of Intelligent Giving, and the delectable Joanna, the Munro Seafood heiress, and former belle of Jonny ‘The Bastard’ Le Croix.

Both are dear friends, so I had no choice but to dust off the hip flask, rev up the Morgan and once again head north.

We broke the journey at Fort William, a town whose ambience simply wails charity shop! Ben Nevis may tower over it, but the town itself has all the character of a mangled Geoff Love & His Orchestra cassette.

"David was forced into dressing up as a village idiot"

Two ferry rides and a kilt-hire later we finally arrived in North Uist - and to some excellent news: Uncle Murray had been rushed to the mainland by helicopter due to severe constipation, and thus would not be joining the wedding party. My celebratory jig was abruptly curtailed when David, ever the earnest figurehead, announced the plans for his stag party on the eve of the big day. No champagne, high-class hookers or casinos; instead, it would entail us all performing a variety of charitable deeds such as clearing litter off a beach and painting a mural at a youth club.

Not for the first time, Intelligent Giving’s head boy had gotten his facts wrong. There was no litter and no youth club. Instead we repaired to the Lochmaddy Hotel where David was forced into the proper nuptial spirit by dressing up as a village idiot and having his feet bathed in hot ashes, as is the Hedbridean custom.

On the big day an atypical blaze of Scottish sunshine had The Brunette performing a last minute top-up to her tan, yards away from a colony of moth-eaten seals.

Nonetheless we arrived in good time at the delightful chapel on the isle of Berneray to take our place among the great and good of the charity sector. Gone were the sensible shoes and wide-eyed expressions, to be replaced by more Manolo and Prada than you can shake a Black Amex at. No amount of luxuriant charity-professional accoutrements, however, could outshine Joanna. After keeping the groom gnawing his nails for half an hour, the bride floated up the aisle, a vision of Gaelic beauty, drawing gasps of delight from the assembled heathen.

The Brunette wept through the whole service, though I suspect that had more to do with a cutting remark about her Hermes handbag by a Charity Commission diva than anything associated with love and marriage.

The reception proved a hoot as, against all odds, rival factions were united in the mutual pursuit of champagne with Talisker whisky chasers. Master of Ceremonies Andrew kept superb order, while impossibly suave best man Ben set females aquiver with a spine-tingingly romantic rendition of Give A Little Love by Scot poets, The Bay City Rollers.

"The last I saw, she was slung over the shoulder of a burly lobsterman"

Bellies full of sensational seafood caught by Joanna’s father, 200 bloated guests proceeded to stagger about in a ceilidh that continued til dawn. Unable to dance owing to a rash developing in the darker recesses of my kilt, I stumbled back to the hotel in the early hours. The last I saw of The Brunette, she was being slung over the shoulder of a burly lobsterman and carried outside for “some fresh air”. Investigating further would merely have dignified the incident.

I am happy to report that David and Joanna are now blissfully nest-building in south London. Meanwhile, I returned from the wedding with a new-found fondness for all-things Hebridean. Against my better judgement, the peoples proved hospitable and humorous, the landscape unfailingly dramatic and, while their charity shops are not quite up to Belsize Park standards, it’s nothing that a few tattered copies of The Joy of Sex can’t improve.

On a sad note, I have to report that The Brunette has announced she is in love with her lobsterman. The Celtic rogue evidently cast a briney spell, although from what I could see he was all winkle and no cockle.

Good luck to them. They deserve one another. And so, on a more savoury note, do David and Joanna.

Intelligent Giving - Shop with Alain de B'Argain - Comments

Shop with Alain de B'Argain

Shop talk with Alain de B'Argain

Shop talk with
Alain de B'Argain