The Beginning

My father in law was of Scottish extraction and was quite partial to a wee dram. In fact it was sometimes a good bit more than a wee dram. I can recall him downing three quarters of a bottle of scotch on his own of an evening. Now, if I drank that much I would at the very least be waking up in ITU if not six feet under. However, John would just stand up out of his arm chair at the end of the evening, wish us all a good night's sleep, and walk steadily across the room on his way to retiring. The next day there wouldn't be the slightest hint of a hang over. Sadly, we lost John a couple of years' ago at the well preserved age of 83.

John's tipple was a good blend. He never really appreciated all this single malt stuff. Over the years his favourites varied. I recall Bells and The Famous Grouse on the table beside his chair. Another was a special blend available only through the Wine Society. I have to be honest and say that at I have yet to find a widely available blend that I enjoy. On one of our visits to the Hebridean island of Coll we were visiting Alec and Flora, God rest their souls, when the offer of drinks was made. I owned up to Alec about my not appreciating whisky so he said he would fix a dram that I would enjoy. You may consider it sacrilege, but he mixed it with lemonade and I did enjoy it.

My downfall was whiskey rather than whisky. A few years ago I won a bottle of Jamieson's as second prize in a competition. I immediately fell in love with the mellow smoothness of it. The slippery slope continued due to Harvey's brewery shop in Lewes, East Sussex. Now Harvey's is where I obtained my management qualification as I organised a tour of the brewery for the local branch of my professional association. I am now the proud owner of a certificate which attests to the fact that I can organise a piss up in a brewery, so no one can say I can't. On one of my visits to the brewery shop to top up my crate, I saw a fascinating looking tin containing a dumpy little bottle with the name Bruichladdich on it. I had never seen anything so unpronouncable so I bought a bottle of the ten year old. This must have been about the time that the distillery reopened so I am grateful to the marketing guys at the time for getting it right to attract my attention.

This is the end of the beginning because next I must go to the trouble of charging a glass with a drop of said ten year old Bruichladdich and let you know my thoughts on it. In case you a wondering, I gather the pronounciation is "brookladdy" or thereabouts.