It is not normally my destiny, gentle reader, to comment on what a superb gift life is. I focus too much, perhaps, on the perfidies of our “leaders.” To hell with them all, I say. Life is good. Scotland always makes me a better, kinder man (let us charitably turn away from the question of why She has no such effect on her natives).
Today we journeyed, nay glided, from Lochinver to Blairgowrie. I stopped at Kenmore to visit a reconstruction of a “Scottish Crannog”. Of course it was no such thing. Crannogs were built by my ancestors, the Celts, before the Scots ever arrived. Like the Scots, I arrived late. Unlike them I made a financial contribution (to thank the team for their kindness in rearranging things so I could take the tour despite my tardiness). I loved it. I then headed to my somewhat snooty hotel (good, but not as good as it thinks) and had an unequivocally excellent meal accompanied by two superb wines.
Yes, dear dear reader, life is good. And tomorrow, Islay.
The Last Ditch by Tom Paine 
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