A WHISKY MOMENT

Just a few miles up the road is Edradour Whisky, the smallest distillery in Scotland. They make some of the finest whisky in the land, but only in very small quantities - their annual output is about the same as the large distilleries manufacture in a day. Only twelve casks of whisky are produced a week, by hand - with no automation - by three men. It is sold in very few outlets and it is scarcely available outside a very small local geographic radius. It is not shipped to Australia so the bottle I am bringing back home will be quite unique.

Whilst I've been here, I have been fortunate to enjoy a few wee drams of Edradour cream whisky with Jeanette; Edradour single malt with Gordon; and Edradour cask matured with my brother. The shop at Edradour has whiskies for sale that cost up to four hundred pounds (nearly $800) a bottle.

The text on the opening page of Edradour's website is as eccentric as any I've seen. It also typifies the Scottish love of, and relationship with, whisky and golf:

I don't know what it is about fairway woods.

Ten years I've been playing golf - time enough to reduce my handicap to a respectable level, time enough even for Edradour to mature - but not, it seems, to master a fairway wood.

Yet I persist in trying and have at least achieved consistency - one of the most acute slices you ever saw (not that I'd let you see).

 So it was this one time, on the final hole, it happened. The eighteenth is a long hole, with a nasty dogleg halfway along it. I'd overhit my tee shot, and the trees wouldn't allow me the green in less than three. Pity.

A pro might do it with a lot of spin. A pro I thought or my fairway slice.

 I took the wood, a deep breath and swung. And true to bad form, the ball arced gracefully round the trees, bounced on the fairway, and ran to the heart of the green.

 In the clubhouse later, over a glass I was asked: "Who taught you shots like the last one?"

 Sad to say modesty left me as I replied: "Some things just come naturally".

 Edradour …enjoy life's small victories.

In other news .....

1600 litres of domestic heating fuel have been stolen from a local castle. The police sent around an email to alert us to be vigilant for oil thieves.

Icicles are dangling from the gutters, some almost two feet in length (or over half a metre in 'new length'). They point menacingly down over doorways. I try not to dilly-dally on doorsteps as I don't much fancy being speared through the head.

I am packing up my cottage today and saying more goodbyes. Tonight I am having dinner with Jeanette, Gordon, Paul, Teresa, Gilmour and Mahri and then a farewell drink with Eric in the pub. Tomorrow morning a haggis, neeps and tatties brunch with Jeanette & Gordon. Fingers and toes are crossed that the forecasted snow storm does not dump over Edinburgh and Heathrow and thus delay my departure.

Although I cannot think of a better place to be stranded, especially as I will have my bottle of Edradour whisky for warmth!