IslandTrip Part 1

Well bum-titty-bum.

I arrived in Oban - arsehole of nowhere (but quite pretty) - yesterday after Fisher dropped me off at the Caledonian Hotel. The first person I saw was Sister's Pa-in-Law, who considers me the bum-fluff of the universe. He ignored me. I ignored him. It worked well. Unfortunately, I keep seeing him (he's sitting opposite me as I type in the bar at this very moment) so keeping up the pretense of not noticing him is getting harder. Nevertheless, he has no desire to speak to me, nor I to him, so this is the civilised option.

Anyhoo - after checking into my little stable stall (only not as roomy) I went out into Oban to do some shopping. I wanted to pick up a few treats for Sister at the local deli, which I did - including some Serrano Ham and some luvverly looking cheese. There was a particularly delightful Brie on the countertop which I couldn't resist. Am a sucker for Brie. I then made the mistake of calling Sister to ask if there was anything she needed. There was. I therefore went in search of:

1) A dummy. Surprisingly hard to find. You now have a choice of tooth guards, tooth soothers, and things called 'silicones'. Nothing is called a dummy nowadays. Perhaps it's non-PC? Still, job done, on to number 2.

2) A cheap whisk and a pair of cheap scales. Whisk found in nearby home shop. No scales. Scales found in home shop on other side of town.

3) Books for nevvies. This wasn't requested by Sister, but I can't pass a Waterstones without popping in.

4) Long sleeved t-shirt for nevvy 3. Alas the only shop that looked likely to provide such a thing was shut for - I kid thee not - a 'fashion show' - at 5 pm. If I say it was M&Co, all natives will understand the preposterous oxymoron of the above.

5) Called it a day.

Now, something rather unpleasant happened during the course of all this. I discovered that Oban has a particular pungency not unreminiscent of foul drains. I first noticed it in Boots, picking up the dummy. It was faint, came and went, and I thought nothing of it. Then I went to the first home shop and thought the man who helped me was one of the most rancid smelling human beings I'd ever encountered. I wondered whether he'd dropped a wind package just before I came in - and whether he'd been eating cowpats for lunch. I left hurriedly. Unfortunately, as I was wandering round the second home shop, I became aware of the smell following me. Gradual dawning realisation left me with a creeping horror. It was me!! I'd taken the pooches for a walk with Fisher before she left and must have trodden in dog crap!! And I'd been traipsing it round town!!! What hideousness.

I made a quick break for the hotel, via a handy puddle. The suspicious brown stain was easily removed, though, and surreptitious examination reassured me that my shoes were no longer stinky. I therefore went into Waterstones for books.

While buying entertaining but educational books for my nevvies I was distressed to discover that the smell had NOT gone. In fact, as I stood waiting for the till, I was overwhelmed by a horrible, horrible waft of foulness. I was aghast. This could mean only one thing. It was genuinely, awfully, ME! I could not imagine what I'd done to myself - but there was only one course of action - gather up my bags and head to my room to shower and scrub myself head to foot with gravel. I bent, and as I grabbed my bags, a full waft almost sent me reeling.

I burst into merry, relieved laughter. At a quizzical look from the till man, I explained how I'd been followed by a stench all morning and had just come to the conclusion it was myself - until that moment. Instead:

"It's my Brie de Mieux!" I chuckled. To which the till man retorted:

"So it IS you."

Thanks for that.

Anyway, that was the extent to which interesting things happened yesterday. I spent the entire evening watching Comic Relief, deciding to donate £5 every time they made me laugh out loud. I donated £15.

This morning I was roused by my internal alarm clock. I peered blearily at my watch in the gloom and thought it said it was close to 6am. After 5 or so minutes of waking myself up by shouting loudly inside my head, I switched on the light and started getting up. Then I had the aforethought to read my watch in the light. It was 4.30.

At 6am I received the wake up call I'd ordered. It was much harder getting up the second time - and utterly horrendous to trudge downstairs with my huuuuge suitcase and be told the ferry was cancelled due to Force 9 gales.

So, I'm now stuck in Oban for the day. There really is nothing to do in this little toon. However, it's Man U against Liverpool (kicking off right now) so I'm off to the pub to watch it. Hopefully I'll live.

Whisky Tour Part 4.

Where was I?

Ah, yes, Ardanaiseig.

Siiiiigh.

After a solid sleep, I ... well, actually, I sort of went back to sleep. Fisher, Arrow and Lu all partook of breakfast, but I chose to lie abed, snoozing and reading my way to wakefulness. We were leisurely in our leaving, knowing that yet more driving awaited. However, our first stop was relatively close, as we had the Oban distillery to visit.

I'm not a huge fan of Oban. At night, it's a proper harbour-town, complete with local Neds who drink too much and shout obscenities outside your window at 3 in the morning. It's also quite grotty in parts, and you only have to scratch below the pretty, touristy surface to see the Gateway to the Isles is juuuust a little bit skanky. However, Fisher pointed out that our view is also quite skewed by the assosciations we have with the place: namely arriving in the dark, just in time to witness the first drunken wave of Neds, staying in dodgy B&Bs or hotels (we never organise ourselves in time to book good ones) and then waking at some ungodly hour of the 'morning' to catch a depressing CalMac ferry to Coll. With all this in mind, it's easy to forget that despite its flaws, Oban is actually quite lovely for a flying visit. It certainly was that day, anyway.

In some manner of miracle, the sun had decided to come out, and nothing could be prettier than Oban harbour in the sunshine.

Oban Harbour


We found the distillery with ease, but had around 40 minutes to kill before the tour kicked off again, so decided to get some coffee at the Italian bistro opposite Eeusk restaurant. We wandered over, and Arrow & Lu got a good look at the view and harbour. A tall ship called Tenacious was moored by the bistro. It specialises in holidays for people of all abilities - disabled and able bodied - so people can get an idea of crewing for a tall ship. It looked a lot of fun, although I did overhear one of the women telling a 'hilarious' story about how seasick everyone had been during wet weather - which rather dulled the romance.

After our coffee we headed back to the distillery and heard, yet again, how whisky is made. We refrained from joining in with the more well-worn facts (Guide: "To make whisky you need only three ingredients ..." Us: "Barley, yeast and water!") and I actually managed to listen all the way through the piping process and understand it! Marvellous! Although I think I've now forgotten it again. Hey ho.

It was another good, clear guide, delivered by a girl with obvious aspirations for the theatre, and when it came time for the tasting we were all eager. Unfortunately, I can't remember a bloody thing about it! I'm sure Arrow will add the facts in a comment, but I can't recall a blimmin thing! I have a hazy recollection that their standard malt was older than most, at 14 years, but I may have just made that up. Oban itself is one of the oldest distilleries in Scotland, so I may just be confused. I think Arrow commented on its saltiness in comparison to the others we'd tried, and I agreed that the old tongue shrivelled slightly. I also think I quite liked it. However, it can't have knocked my socks off if I have such diluted memories. Anyway, it was a good trip overall. The distillery itself has an interesting display relating its history, and it's all very professional and slick.

Back in the car we leaped, and had a decision to make. We could either head straight home, stopping off at Loch Fyne Oyster Bar for lunch and then visiting points of interest on the way back - or we could head south to Glengoyne distillery, which is just south of Stirling. There was much dithering, but it was Arrow's choice in the end, and I think the dread words 'points of interest' did it for him in the end.

Glengoyne distillery it was!

We drove down past Loch Awe and into the Lomond and Trossachs national park. We passed Loch Fyne, and I gave it a nostalgic mental wave, and then we were searching for the little village of Dumgoyne, near Killearn. And there was "the most beautiful distillery in Scotland."

Well, yeah ... it's pretty enough, but not as pretty as Edradour. But aaaanyway ...

The moment I stopped the car, Fisher was out like a lit firework, absolutely gagging for the loo. Lubentina went with her, while Arrow and I gave the dogs a brief walk. Then I crossed the road to the distillery, needing the loo as well, and encountered Lu coming back to find us, saying that Fisher had been in serious discomfort when she discovered the loos were all the way at the back of the distillery. She'd nearly peed her pants.

"Oh," I said, opening a nearby door. "So she didn't want to use these loos, then?"

At that moment, Fisher appeared around the corner - much relieved - saw me standing at a much closer loo door, and nearly peed her pants again.

Toilet humour aside, Arrow and I went to reception to find out whether there was a tasting option that didn't involve taking a tour. By this stage we were pretty sure than the minor differences the Glengoyne guides might throw up were far from worth paying for yet another tour. We asked a slightly disconcerting gentleman who insisted on looking over my right shoulder while he spoke to me, whether such a thing was possible. He gave a very convoluted answer, which seemed to imply that yes, there was an option but that you usually had to book in advance, but that he'd check. But he didn't check, he just hailed a passing manager-type and turfed the whole matter over to her.

The nub and gist (which I was only too glad to grasp by this point) was that, no, we couldn't have a tasting without a tour, but we could go down to the shop and the girls there would let us have a dram or two, and also tell us all we needed to know. So this is what we did.

Alas, once again, my memory fails me. There were 4 different drams, and I'm pretty sure the standard was a 10 year old. The other three may or may not have been a 15, a 17, and a 21. I do recall that Arrow and I were very pedestrian in our choice and went for the most commonly favoured one as one of two favourites. I think it was the 2nd youngest. We may, or may not, have also enjoyed the 21 year old. Oo ... actually, I vaguely recall being told that most people liked the 21 year old as well, and thinking "yeah, well, that's just because they think they're supposed to" in a very snobbish manner - so maybe I didn't like the 21 year old after all.

BOLLOCKS! Why is my memory so crap?

Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Too much whisky.

One thing I do remember, because it's very interesting, is that Glengoyne use no peat at all in their process. Unlike other distilleries who malt the barley using peat smoke in varying amounts, Glengoyne use only hot air - no peat at all. There's therefore no smokiness to it, and it's a very smooth, clean number. Good ... I think.

So that was that. The whisky tour was at an end, and all that remained was to hot foot it back to Fife, have some supper, and go our separate ways. We thought about going out for one final meal, but decided it would be easier just to grab some shopping at Tesco's and have a meal of bits 'n' bobs back at our place before the sad but inevitable parting. Not very glamorous, but there we have it. We aren't very glamorous, so it was quite fitting.

And thus comes the end of The Whisky Tour. A most enjoyable, refreshing and tasty way to spend a holiday.

Oh - and before I go to bed - I managed to gird my loins and go for a run today. Just 2 miles, but I did do it in 21 minutes, which is quite fast for me. 10.32 for the first mile and 10.33 for the second, which is nice and even - so that's good, too. Fisher actually ran with me, which helped keep my pace up. Of course, I then came home and discovered I was meant to run for 25 minutes, not 20, so that pissed me off - not inconsiderably.

And there I go again ...

Right. I am delighted I did 2 miles in just under 21 minutes. It was a good, even pace. That is all.

Goodnight.