Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
hundreds of yards away. The McFarlanes and I thought it would have been more sporting
if they'd left the fountain working and had to shoot over the top of it, but that's by the by.
And a particularly tall and impressive fountain it is too, if I may say so, and obviously I
speak as one who's cased a few.
One of the archers came over to where we were sitting on a grassy bank watching all
this to explain to us what was going on, which was very kind of him and I suspect quite
decent and understanding too, given that we were probably letting down the general tone
of things by applauding what appeared to us to be especially good shots.
From Society Road it's conveyor belt to the end of the M9 south of Dunblane, then
the small but perfectly formed B824 to Doune. (This is where the Python boys filmed the
Rude Frenchman/Trojan Rabbit scenes in
Holy Grail
.) Through Callander to Strathyre
where the road opens out properly and then the usual A85/A82 to Fort Bill. The weath-
er is just stunning, the mountains' summits are still brushed with snow and the hills and
trees and lochs just shine with light. Ken drinks in the view and smokes the occasional
cigarette - I got special dispensation from Ann for this so long as the top is down.
We talk about ideas for future novels and about the different histories of spirit-making
in Scotland and Ireland, wondering why Scotch is so well developed as an international
drink and Irish whiskey much less so. We speculate that maybe it's something to do with
the reliance of the Irish on potatoes while the Scots had all this barley which they might
as well use, effectively preserve and maybe make some hard cash from, by turning into
spirit. The local ambient temperature might have something to do with it, too; you need
cold water - and it's a case of pretty much the colder the better as long as it's not actually
ice - to cool the spirit vapour as it exits the still, and Ireland's relatively balmier climate
might make efficient home or farm distilling just that little bit less effective than in Scot-
land.
I mention how expensive Scotch was in Cyprus compared to the local brandy and
we end up reminiscing about Rotten Drinks We've Had Abroad, Ken's being a Turkish
gin which he describes as not just rough, but inclined to hang around your sinuses like a
drunk ghost in a damp castle.
I've loaded a bunch of CDs for the journey but at no point in the two days do we even
turn the player on; there's neither point nor need when the top's down, and that's the way
it stays for the whole trip save for overnight at Portree.
We stop for lunch at the Prince's House in Glenfinnan. It seems odd being in Glenfin-
nan and not seeing the McFarlanes, but they're still at the school and we have a ferry to
catch. The Prince's House is the other hotel in Glenfinnan, right on the main road near the
station. Our usual watering hole in the village is the Glenfinnan House Hotel, down by
the loch and just a couple of minutes along the shore from Les and Aileen's. This place
is known in the village as the Lodge, but you have to be careful; many years ago I was
