For any prospective son-in-law, bringing the parents together for the first time was bound to be fraught with anxiety and apprehension. So much is at stake as a first impression can be pivotal. In my case it was a matter of establishing confidence. Confidence that this son-in-law to be, who was wanting in most, if not all, of the social graces, with a haphazard slightly incomprehensible and unpredictable character, was going to be ok for their daughter. So on a beautiful Acharacle morning with the clear cut silhouette of Ben Resipole hanging in the mist over loch Shiel, the banks of daffodils bursting in yellow and the house looking more alike a stately home than the rambling manse which it was, the scene was set. I had done my best to make sure that everything was ready: the house was clean and tidy and Jeannie was busy organising lunch. But it was the meeting with Iain that clinched it. He welcomed the visitors from Perth, engaged them in conversation, enquired after their journey and although really a visitor himself, acted the perfect host. The test had been passed. I was so glad to have a big brother who was a gentleman too. It was what my future in-laws needed to know. Maybe with a big brother like Iain, he would be alright after all.