When friends of mine Richard and Anne got married in the 70s, the ceremony and reception were held in Berwick, where her parents lived, and I decided to drive down from Edinburgh. The challenge was how to do this without rumpling the hired morning suit, so I planned to take the suit with me in its carrier with the necessary shirt, tie, socks and smart shoes, and find somewhere close to Berwick where I could quickly change. As I drove down I was keeping an eye out for suitable spots, and eventually spotted a quiet little side road that looked promising. And so it proved; I drove down it, travelled under a bridge and there in front of me were a couple of grassy fields looking out over the North Sea. Nothing in sight seaward and a high embankment behind, it was totally secluded. Emboldened, I hopped out of the car, got out the clobber and quickly stripped off down to my shorts, before pulling the dress shirt on over my head. This was a bit of a struggle. I had put in the cuff links already, and it took a minute or so to ease my hands through the cuffs. So there I was, with the shirt still over my head, blind to the world and waving my arms about, when I heard a loud hiss behind me. Alarmed, I wriggled more vigorously and eventually got both arms and head outside the shirt, and was able to look round. To find, on top of the grassy embankment, a London to Edinburgh express train, which had coasted to a halt exactly alongside my secluded spot, and from which amused passengers had been watching my struggles with the shirt - for how long I don't know.
With an appropriate mix of dignity and speed I pulled on the trousers, and the train pulled away, leaving me alone again with the sea.
The wedding was a great success.
