“Ah, come in, come in. And welcome to the newest addition to our clan. Yes, very welcome indeed.” Archibald McTavernish – The McTavernish to give him his Scottish title, Twenty Third Baron McTavernish of Taverntown to give him his noble designation, The Laird, everybody called him. “We haven’t had a foreigner join us since ... when my dear?”

“1913” His wife said, she was dressed in suitable highland dress – like an extra from the White Heather Club of old – with the McTavernish tartan emblazoned across her white dress. “An unfortunate time to welcome a Bavarian into the clan. Still he was killed at Verdun so no harm done and your great grandfather joined from Clan Cameron instead.”

“Ah yes, just so. Sit, sit, my boy.” The Laird was ebullient, perhaps too much so, but since this was his future father in law, Clarence Smith concentrated on being tolerant. Clarence (annoyingly ‘Clarry’ to all his school friends, Rency to his university chums, until they met one of his school friends, laughed uproariously at the old nickname and promptly adopted it instead), was a quiet, unassuming man. He had met Lucinda McTavernish at St Andrew’s University where he had gone to study Sports Science – he had achieved poor exam results and his Games Master had suggested Sports Science because he was good at golf.

He liked golf because it was mostly a solitary game with one other, three others at most. He wasn’t exceptionally good. He had chosen St Andrew’s through clearing (that UK approach to exam failures where you can try to achieve your tenth choice of degree instead of having to take the rough road of having to find a job and work for a living), thinking that made sense since he liked golf. He then learned that he had to understand joints, and football and other things he had no interest in. Hence his poor degree to match his poor school exams. The one bright spot had been Lucinda.

Lucinda and Hermione Grainger (she hated her name now) were playing a round of golf and chatting along the way. In fact the chatting took more time than the golf. Hermione was just talking ‘sotto voce’ about what he boyfriend wanted to do. Hermione didn’t tell Lucinda that she had already agreed in return for a good meal in an excellent restaurant; if you said it out loud it sounded rather sluttish, she thought.

Clarence and Thomas Cadbury-Tobler were behind and getting frustrated. Finally Thomas shouted “If you intend to gossip all day, perhaps we could play through?” The two women looked daggers at them, Clarence went over, smoothed their ruffled feathers and they ended up playing a foursome with Clarence and Lucinda as a pair and the other two as another pair. No more discussion on Hermione’s perverted boyfriend were to be had. By the end, Clarence had asked to buy Lucinda a drink in the bar; Thomas and Hermione went off to check out his room and she got the chance to test out if she liked her boyfriend’s suggestion before the boyfriend had even taken her to dinner (she was a little sluttish it has to be said – but she looked a million dollars so people forgave her easily).

Over the next few months leading up to finals two things became clear: Clarence was besotted with Lucinda;and Lucinda was not giving out until she was married. “I must be the last virgin in Scotland she said to herself.” But rules were rules, as Clarence was about to discover, in October, when meeting the family.

“Soooo, you had a good trip over to our wee island?” Asked the wife, Monica, his future mother-in-law. He had the opportunity of checking her out; he’d read somewhere that if you wanted to know what a girl would look like, check out her mother. Well, she didn’t look too bad. She had spawned, how many? Five girls? But she looked like she had kept her shape. The dress was one of those loose fitting ones that still manage to advertise the body beneath. It was cut fairly low, and given that he was six foot tall and she was not, he could have a good view down her cleavage if he wanted to. He decided not to, she was pleased about that.

“Aye, well it was little rough, since this island is outside the protection of the other isalnds. But I enjoyed it. I’m looking forward to my stay. Your tartan is very singular.”

“I rather think singular either is or is not, it cannot be very singular. Like saying something is very unique.” He had thought of saying that and was pleased he had not. “It is said by naysayers that the pink and purple plaid is the result of our little island only growing two types of heather, pink and purple, but I’m sure there is more to history than that. Ah, here is little Lucy. Sorry I mean here is Lucy.”

Lucy didn’t like the epithet Little because she really was. She was fourteen but looked eleven, she was also possibly the most intelligent of the five girls. “Did you know you should have a passport to come here?”

“Why?”

“We are not part of the United Kingdom.” Lucy explained. Clarence was still wondering about her being called Lucy when his girlfriend was Lucinda. He found out later that the other girls were Chiad, Linda, and Lusinia; it seemed a fad of someone’s to name them all similarly (except the first).

“Tell Mr Smith -”

“Clarence, please.”

“Just so, tell Clarence the history.”

“When the Act of Union 1707 was signed, Isle Tavernish was not part of Scotland. It was associated with the crown, but not subject to the crown. This was the result of a bold and brave act by the Laird and Clan Chief Archimedes McTavernish in rescuing the lover of the Scottish King in 1220. The man was fleeing from some nobles who thought it unseemly that the king should be, and I quote ‘Be thrusting his parts into another man to the detriment of all morals and Christian princples.’ the lack of the second ‘i’ is how it was written. Since they could not kill the king or take him to task, they sought to remove the lover. The Laird rescued him from shipwreck, a common enough event those days that saving someone was quite unusual. In return King Alexander II made Isle Tavernish free of the laws and taxes of Scotland in perpetuity. So when the act of union was signed, we should have been separate signatories, but were not. This was tested in the courts in 1891 and the Lords agreed that Isle Tavernish was, like the Isle of Man or the Channel Islands, not part of the United Kingdom.”

The Laird had come over “Well done, well done Lucy. Of course nowadays we accept all the laws that are passed in Westminster or Holyrood; or almost all. For example -”

“For example there is no speed limit on the island.” Monica interrupted.

“Are there any roads? I thought only a track?”

“We have half a mile of road from the harbour to the house. You can drive as fast as you wish ... of course there are no cars either. Now, Archi, we should not tire Clarence, there will be plenty of time later, after dinner and the ceremony.”

“Hmm? Oh yes, quite right, quite right.” She did not want Clarence to be put off quite yet.

“Bye the way, I haven’t seen Lucinda yet?” Clarence said.

“Oh no, not before the ceremony, of course. Ahh, dinner. We brought it forward so it would not clash.”

He surmised that the ceremony was some old tradition that he had to be first footed or something. Dinner was pleasant enough, and they were pleased that he had no food fads. He ate the haggis, started, he ate the fish (not being at all sure what it was), and then the roast sheep which was carved on the table. The dessert, at least, seemed normal enough.

Monica carefully herded him from people who might corral him into long conversations about nothing. He was grateful for that. “So, now to the first of our traditions. The ladies of the house are divided into the marrieds and unmarrieds. The marrieds prepare the bride though I think she is ready now; the unmarrieds prepare the bridegroom. So off you go.”

“For what?”

“The wedding of course! Why do you think you are here!” Monica’s mother-in-law exclaimed.

“What!? But my parents ... I mean I thought I was just coming for a visit, to meet the family.”

“To meet and join the family.” Monica replied. “You want to marry don’t you?”

“Yes, but -”

“Well then, don’t worry. This wedding is not valid anywhere but on the island. Remember what Lucy said? Well our marriages are not recognised elsewhere, so you can have a UK wedding in St Andrew’s. But if you want to sleep with Lucinda in the next two weeks, the wedding is vital.” Well he had been hoping that her resistance might weaken after he’d (hopefully) been approved as a son-in-law. If it was only on the island, well, why not. “The ceremony is a little odd, we have a minister Rev Markleson comes over specially; he is conversing with Lucinda to ensure she is convinced – she is. There was some unpleasantness in the late fifteen hundreds where there was some suggestion that the bride was not willing to marry, so a new tradition was born. There are others: the stamping on the glass is thought to be the result of a Jewish lad marrying into the family at some point, though it is only oral history I fear.”