Although this week is unashamedly dedicated to all things wedding-related, I haven't forgotten that we are also now less than three weeks away from Fringe by the Sea, and I still have more of my favourite acts to share with you from this year's programme. I had intended to run this post later in the week, but my lovely mum (who, in case you missed them, left some particularly brilliant comments here yesterday) is enduring yet another round of the dreaded scanxiety today, so as well as loading you up on wedding goodness and shamelessly promoting Fringe by the Sea, I also wanted to do a wee something special for her. Fortunately, I can kill three birds with one stone, thanks to the big bundle of folky awesomeness that is Kris Drever.

But first, I need to backtrack a little. As you know by now, the Hubster is really into music. Specifically, new music. Aside from a handful of beloved favourites (Morrissey and Bruce Springsteen are with him - and, by default, me - for life), few artists will outlast his limited attention span. He will happily wipe half the albums from his iPod and replace them without a second thought.

I, on the other hand, suffer from the unfortunate and somewhat self-defeating belief that if I don't know it, then I won't like it. I find new music exhausting; you have to listen to a new song sooo many times before it actually starts to mean something. Frankly, if I can't sing along to it, I fail to see the point. But once a song has worked its way into my consciousness, once its comforting melody has settled over me like a soft blanket, once its lyrics trip effortlessly off my tongue... well. Then it is mine for life.

Songs, for me, are memories. As soon as the first familiar chord trembles across the airwaves, I am instantly transported to a different place, a distant moment. There is one song in particular that is relatively new to me, but which in the last eighteen months or so (that counts as new, right?) has rocketed to the top of my charts and become inextricably linked in my mind with our wedding, with family, with simple pleasures. And, fortunately for me, the man who performs it the best is appearing at Fringe by the Sea. Squeeeeeal!

I'm not normally a fan of music in blogs; I'm yet to be convinced that the written word and the sung one sit comfortably together, at least not when you're *ahem* reading them at work (autoplay is the enemy of surreptitiousness). However, in the case of the lovely Kris Drever and one of my favourite songs, Shining Star, I will make an exception, because I want to share with you not only the song that I love but the memories that abide with it, the reasons why I love it. This little ditty means a lot not only to me, but also to Fin, and to my family. It immediately fills me with images of a waltz. A long drive home. A wedding. Joy.

It has been a long day. A day of words written in the sand, a lone balloon waving in the breeze, one sandy knee, and a question. The question. An old ring on a new finger, champagne popping, hugs and grins and long-distance phone calls. It's my birthday, but that's not why we've been celebrating.

Mum can waltz! Mum, teach us, please, go on. Mum, we need your help.

Perhaps it's the peculiar mix of excitement and terror that I'm experiencing. Perhaps it's the gentle one-two-three-one-two-three of the song that's playing. Perhaps it's just the bubbles. But when Fin declines to dance, I bounce up and my mother and I begin to waltz. Round and round, socks slipping on the carpet, avoiding the couch and the Christmas tree, laughing with the sheer silly joy of it all.

Some weeks later, and a long drive home. Ugh. My calves ache, my thighs ache, my shoulders ache, my arms ache, even my eyeballs ache. Such are the perils of skiing in Scotland. Fin and my dad are both snoozing in the back of the car as we rumble towards home, eerily similar in their salopettes, sleepy little snuffs and puffles occasionally escaping their mouths. My mum navigates the long road south as I recline in the front seat, weary and content.

For as long as I can remember, my mum and I have sung in the car together. From The Beatles to The Lion King, Guys 'n' Dolls to Diana Ross; if it's got a chorus, we'll be warbling away. I have even been known to bust out a few harmonies. Just call me Liesl Von Trapp.

Kris Drever is doing his best, bless him, but he is no match for my mother and me. We hit our stride and the familiar chorus rises to meet us. Side by side we sing, joyful and unembarrassed, as the men sleep on.

The gravelly rush of our tyres on the road quickly fades as we pass by. Around us the wild hills are silent. In this moment, all is well with the world.

And finally. A wedding.

That is why I love this song.