For at least a couple of hours I’d been snuggled down inside my sleeping bag, trying to keep out that terribly early morning light that come in the summer in Scotland with a 4am sunrise, wondering whether the market would be large enough to patent blackout material tents. Now the horrible smell of BBQ was seeping through the fabric, I groaned, it was bad enough in the evening but who BBQ’s their breakfast?
I took a deep breath, it’s difficult for me not to be controlling; but I’m learning. Still it wouldn’t stop me complaining to my boy. Half asleep he agreed with me but said that he really did fancy a bacon buttie and I had to agree.
We wriggled out of our sleeping bags looking like a ridiculous pair of worms, pulled on an extra layer and headed out to our friends who probably thought they were doing us a favour. I kept my thoughts to myself. The morning plan was whisky tasting so filling my stomach with bread and bacon seemed like a sensible plan, I smiled and said thanks whilst trying to avoid sitting down-wind of the smoke.
Whisky is something magical to me, I like to take a little of this and that and I was intrigued to learn more about something so many associate with Scotland, our national drink.
Whisky to me is warmth, you can feel it warm you all the way down to your belly, the flavour changing as it swirly around your mouth and you breathe in the fumes. I like to think about all the years it’s been waiting to be sampled and ensure I don’t waste a single drop.
It takes patience and resilience to produce something that requires years to create; whisky represents Scotland and the Scottish people.