Sunshine over the Sassenachs

By Nigel Crew

Trips to Scotland of a group of (now) 50+ something year old whisky loving lads who should all know better, and many of the antics they have got up to, and characters they have met along the way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nigel Crew
• Release date: Dec 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781739183554

Book preview

IN THE BEGINNING

I wrote this as a challenge to see whether I actually could. Often I find myself recounting these stories to people and they make me chuckle, especially when a look of total disbelief is registered. As a group of mates we still tell the stories, crusty old farts that we have become, and the outcome never varies, as unbelievable as that might seem.

I find myself in this tumultuous year of Pandemic insecurities and lockdowns having to reconnect to some of these tales in order to regain my sanity. And also to remember the other losses which have been so difficult to bear in these most difficult of times. I hope you smile in the reading as much as we did in the making.

One of the few positives I have been able to take from this strange and challenging year is that we have managed to gather (virtually) more often than we would have normally, and despite the fact the pubs are shut, fortunately the off licences are still open. Let me tell you, the hangovers have been immense, but the laughter has, on the whole, been astonishing. Something to write a story about, even…..

This is the story of a bunch of reprobates who should know better, behaving like the children we really are. Set against a background of great friendships and over enthusiastic drunkenness, you will be astonished by the daring tales of camaraderie and gluttony as the story unfolds. The story of the Sassenachs on tour.

2002 was the year it all kicked off. For me anyway. My father in law was due in for a triple heart bypass operation, and as a treat for his 70th birthday, his family wanted to send him to Speyside of all places so he could indulge in one of his favourite pastimes. Whisky. Which also happens to be one of my favourite pastimes too.

14 years earlier we had met when his third eldest (or second youngest) but certainly most attractive child and I started dating. I of course had life all planned out until the night she stepped into it and asked me out, but that’s a completely different story.

As with all father in law / prospective son in law relationships we started off cagily. Me trying to be as polite as possible whilst being tortured with Scottishness and questions about my religion. Some of what I say in this story may be fabricated by the way….

Anyway, Tom had a proper drinks trolley in the lounge. Pride of place on the top shelf was the Glenfiddich 12 year old he kept for special occasions. Still a favourite of mine, and by then I was a complete rebel, having also taken a liking to Glenmorangie. Was this like the Beatles and Rolling Stones of the whisky world? I like both of those groups as well, although apparently I shouldn’t do. Meanwhile, if he had invited me in for a drink, he continually fed me the Bells, although to his eternal satisfaction I always refused Coke!

(There was a time when another old school chum of mine, who had emigrated to the frozen wastes of Leeds after we left school, invited me to his wedding. I took a bottle of champagne and a bottle of Glenmo with me, just to be sociable, but had not allowed for the fact that his new wife and himself would not, of course, be coming back to his flat after the wedding. Good job, then, that we finished all the champagne on the evening before, as I don`t really rate that as a nightcap. Strange how the Glenmo also evaporated though. Never seen the guy since. Not enough stamina…... )

About three weeks after our first proper date Theresa finally succumbed and agreed to marry me, and in August 1988 we took the in laws out for a meal and talked it over. After being lined up in front of the firing squad for a few hours and left to sweat, we eventually got back home and I was allowed a Glenfiddich by way of celebration. Only the one, mind. Just imagine where things had got to by the time we were married the following February…….

During the early 1990`s my own whisky collection consisted of a bottle of Oban and some other random bottles, and I believe I had discovered the promotional  material for the Diageo single malts of Scotland. Those famous 6 if you remember them, Oban, Glenkinchie, Dalwhinnie, Cragganmore, Talisker and Lagavulin. Tom, being a Glaswegian who had been in Surrey since the late 1960s, was already enjoying my rebellious streak as much as I was. I can honestly say that I had some bottles which I really didn`t like, although these days they are in my collection. Didn`t stop Tom though, who seemed keen on everything!

By the time 2002 had arrived, he was more than keen to keep coming over for Sunday dinner. He was keen on a drop of red wine and McEwans export (who wasn`t?) and we would generally finish off around the table swapping stories with his grandchildren and sampling pleasures new, so as nobody else in the family volunteered, I was tasked to be his driver on his first trip to Speyside. Actually I volunteered. It was an easy decision.

McEwans export. Fizzy beer in cans is generally a no go for me, but I love this stuff. Heavily chilled in the fridge, and only ever seen it on draught in one place I can ever recall, didn`t taste the same. And I am not generally a big fan of their cask ales when I sometimes come across them. Weird.

At this time, the only person I knew who had ever been to Speyside, was Glenfiddich brand ambassador James Docherty, nowadays proprietor of the Sliagh Beath distillery in Donegal, who had children at the same school as ours, so I asked him if he could suggest anywhere for accommodation as he spent a good deal of time up there. This is how we discovered the Highlander Inn, Craigellachie. Theresa rang them, organized the stay, and so the story begins. 

We booked the flight from Luton, that well known London airport, on an easyjet. This was the time when they were regularly filming for the tv series airline, documenting travel problems etc. We were booked on an evening flight requiring a 6.30 check in, and left Woking in plenty of time, only to get caught up in the horrendous traffic jam known as the M1, having just avoided the usual snarl up on the M25 car park. We therefore arrived at Luton just as the gates were closing for the flight. Major drama, Tom starting to lose it big time, we were unimpressed with the attitude of the staff and let them know. Sorry Sir, gate is closed, you have missed the flight, come back tomorrow was not what we wanted to hear. Imagine our distress. The cameras had just started to make their way over when it was pointed out that our plane had not actually landed at Luton  yet, having been diverted whilst inbound, and we actually could still make the gate, even if we took a leisurely stroll around the airport perimeter before we got there! Unbelievable. We promptly got ourselves seated in a bar and started the weekend off properly. Arriving at Aberdeen about an hour and a half late, we picked up a hire car and drove to Craigellachie via Huntly, where I tried, for the first time, one of Scotland`s famous healthy delicacies. Red pudding (battered) and chips. We finally managed to get to the Highlander at 11 o clock. Worried that the bar might be closing we parked the car on the street and hurried down the stairs to the bar. Nobody there, except for Jock, the owner, who had of course been expecting us for about an hour and a half. No rush, he said, go park the car in our car park and settle in for a drink. Ten minutes later the place is mobbed and we get on it properly. A great end to a very stressful evening.

Jock and his wife Alison looked after us really well, and also organized a great day touring the following day, Jock driving us in his own vehicle. We kept stopping at distilleries where a cassette (ask your parents, children) would be played giving us the background, history etc. We eventually rocked up to Cardhu-My own first distillery tour, and later that weekend also had a managers tour around Glenfiddich, organized by James, which blew my mind. Fantastic. Oddly, we were taken round by a young Belgian lad who sounded distinctly Scottish. He knew his stuff too, but was as amazed as we were when we got into the boardroom, as he had never set foot inside. Straight to the locked cupboard with a key then….

The main things I took away from that first trip were the affirmation that Whisky is best drunk socially with friendly like minded people. Tom and I did the same tour the following day with me as the driver. We had trouble getting him to part with his money at the Whisky shop in Dufftown (all part of the present), and despite there being over 80 malts behind the bar in the Highlander at this point, he spent the weekend drinking Black Bottle blended (which he assured me was his favourite tipple of all time) whilst I tried to navigate from A to Z along the top of the bar. He also spent the weekend holding court in the bar telling everybody what a star his Son in law was! These days, being a bit of a snob and all, 80 malts behind a bar does not have the same drawing power as it had back then, but we have of course spent time in places with 4-500 hundred plus malts behind the bar, and the challenge is therefore different. Quality not quantity, although we still have a general ingestion challenge at certain times, but nearly 20 years ago, 80 was a great challenge for yours truly. The Highlander does, of course, these days boast upwards of 500 malts around the bar. Awesome. And they do a Breakfast Malt, just in case you need one!

Against all the odds, Tom also won the in-bar football lottery on the Saturday evening, which more or less covered our bar bill. Jammy sod, but did allow us to consume vast quantities. I actually hadn`t fully appreciated Tom`s staying power!

I was now hooked, however, and with a firm plan in place to return the following year. My 40th birthday. So with my family’s blessing, I had to set about persuading my few close chums, with whom we were starting to organize regular get togethers to discover and drink whisky, that they should all come with me.

I have to point out that at this time, whenever the boys met up, we were always able to bring new whisky to whichever table we were invited, having just started out on that odyssey of discovery which you don’t get to know about until you decide that the two standard malts mentioned previously are just not enough. What a great year we were having. And I found myself right in the centre of the whirlpool! Most of the other wives hated me of course, often blaming me for their husbands being generally out of control, and snoring like an extra from the walking dead all night. It is fine, my shoulders are broad. And anyway, everybody knows if there is multiple choice, all have to be tried.

All these years later the lads might get around to conversing about so called experts, how little we think of them, and how far up their own arses these people generally can be. James Docherty was our expert (and still is, by the way, more on that later) but he is the least up his arse person I have the pleasure of knowing. You often get an expert in the room at tastings, somebody who might try and trip up or belittle the speaker, and generally if the group dynamic meets anybody new who says they like whisky, that person can often be the expert until they realise what we are about, or we manage to fob them off. Yet there we were, Tom and I, spending a whole weekend in the company of not up their arse experts, listening to tales of derring do from distillery workers, ghillies and publicans, tour guides young and old, male and female (who, by the way, have to generally listen to so called experts on a regular basis whilst escorting them around distilleries, and be polite about it!). I loved it. It made my hobby a super fantastic thing to be doing.

Unfortunately, Tom is no longer with us, having succumbed to Alzheimers in 2017. Such a waste, and a very sad period of our lives. How somebody so intelligent can lose marbles like that is frightening. I know we are not the first people to go through this terrible experience, but until you do, you can’t actually believe how horrendous it is. At least you can put an animal down. Also, of course, we didn`t have to worry about him catching COVID 19.

And so to the Sassenachs on tour.

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Highlander Inn

MEET THE GANG

At this stage I should maybe point out that if you are teetotal or a quaker, or perhaps a vegan, or you regularly ride a pushbike then maybe you should read no further. Snowflakes definitely should read no further.  I make no excuse for the general descriptions of debauchery and gluttony which may or may not get mentioned going forward. Some of it may even be true!

I also make no excuses for liking a bevvy or enjoying the craic. I always have done. Guys gotta have some vices to go with the normality of our usual dreary existence. The fact that I / we may have overindulged somewhat on occasion simply adds to the story in my humble opinion. I don’t believe we are going to change our outlook anytime soon, but maybe the doc will put paid to that for us in good time anyway. We shall see. My take is, you