No kidding, there I was, walking down a sidewalk on Castlehill in Edinburgh from the hotel room to the car holding my bride-to-be in her dress.

It was a somewhat clear yet chilly and blustery day, and I was wearing a charcoal tweed Argyll with my Weathered Lochaber tank, ghillies, et cetera. (See here for a picture for now - more are coming soon!)

In the thirty or so yards between the gate to Jollie's Close and the reception desk to The Witchery by the Castle (the rooms are across the street and down the block a bit from the restaurant) I was stopped no less than three times by different groups of people asking if they could have their picture taken with me.

I had to tell them that I'd love to, but I'd be late to my own wedding just over there at the Castle (pointing up the street to Edinburgh Castle)... in a blatantly American accent.

The looks of shock were priceless, but the one local guide working with the Japanese group merely said, "Well, then, on ye go! I'll explain it to them!"