Our first wedding anniversary began with a power cut. It wasn't ideal

The Herald Scotland

15-06-2025

We tried to recall where we were this time last year, and what we might have been feeling. The weather was vastly different - on our wedding day on the banks of Loch Ard near Aberfoyle, the skies were a clear blue and the sun had us sweltering before the nerves even settled in. Here, though, it's a washout. After a few weeks of sunshine, the rain and wind we were so desperately craving has arrived, and it seems it's here to stay.
At this time in the morning, I mused, I was panic-eating a croissant while trying to keep my eyes closed for the lady doing my makeup. My dress was hanging up in the bedroom and most of my bridesmaids were already ready for the ceremony. Coinneach on the other hand, was attempting to free my brother from a locked changing room and had yet to have his first cup of coffee.
'Imagine,' Coinneach said on our anniversary, 'if we could show our newly-married selves a picture or a video of where we are right now.'
I'm not entirely sure our past selves would have believed us.
We're sitting in a restaurant on our neighbouring isle, Canna - and from our seats near the bar, we can see the fishing boat that secured our seafood platter not two hours before we sat down.
Cafe Canna is one of the first buildings you come across when you hop off the CalMac ferry (Image: Elle Duffy) Cafe Canna is one of the first buildings you come across when you hop off the CalMac ferry. We've come on a Wednesday, when visitors to Rum can enjoy a day trip to our smaller neighbour for a few hours, and plonked ourselves down without hesitation for our anniversary lunch.
We've been planning it for weeks - a chance to have food brought to your table and the prospect of no dishes was something we certainly took for granted living in Glasgow city centre, but now, it's a luxury. And one we won't be forgetting any time soon.
The crossing to Canna was less than romantic. The winds were howling and the ferry leaned into every choppy wave with a force that made my stomach churn and had me questioning if a full lobster lunch was a good idea.
But alongside us on our crossing was every kid in the Small Isles - it was the famed Small Isles Week, a chance for primary school kids from Rum, Muck, Canna and Eigg to meet up with each other and enjoy a week of socialising and learning. This year, it was hosted on Rum - in our Bunkhouse, no less. And if they can stomach the waves, then I figure I can, too.
Lunch was perhaps one of the most impressive spreads I've ever come across. Gareth, the cafe's owner, greeted us with a smile and presented us with our toolkit, assuring us that he won't judge us for any mess we make when breaking into our shells. Fresh homemade bread - gluten free for Coinneach - and a smoky garlic aioli were popped on the table, but were quickly pushed to the side for the main event. Steaming hot lobster, crab and langoustines were presented beautifully in a bowl in front of us - I think our shocked faces earned us a few chuckles from our neighbouring tables.
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Having both worked in hotels that offer seafood platters before, we were astounded at how both of us had completely forgotten what to do. I held the lobster crackers and hoped the rest would come naturally. But really, we found, the best way to dig in was to quite literally dig in.
If we were surprised at the size of the meal, we were even more surprised at how much it filled us up. We all but waddled into the village shop next door - a quaint honesty shop with an impressive selection of meats, cheeses and baked goods, and some of the nicest homemade marmalade I've ever had.
The ferry was just a five minute walk away, and we realised that we'd only scratched the surface of what is such a friendly and enticing island, and so we left with the promise we'd be back soon to venture further than the few hundred metres we'd managed that day.
And thankfully, the waves had decided that we'd had enough, and calmed down for our crossing back to Rum. The perfect anniversary celebration indeed.
Elle Duffy is a former Herald journalist who is now living and writing from the Isle of Rum