While we keep a presence at the table, others keep bringing drams to try.
'Oh! Hi, pat gva.'
'Try this!'
![]() |
DH and MV have a lively conversation |
SLK finally makes an entrance. He was at the Clynelish vs. Highland Park masterclass, earlier, as were MV, whom we met yesterday, and MR, who promptly join us and let us try Highland Park St Magnus (100° PROOF, OB) and Highland Park 30yo 1955/1985 (53.2%, Gordon & MacPhail for Intertrade, 216b). The latter, I have already had.
'Oh! Hi, pat gva.'
'You should try this.'

Table mates pour this undisclosed Speysider |
At this stage, the drams fuse from every corner. Between my table mates, JS, who is our of control, pat gva, the Swissky Mafia, MV and others, I simply cannot get up to get my own. Also, I am out of tokens.*
* I will discover tonight that two tokens have gone AWOL in my trousers pocket. There are so many things in my pockets (flasks, glasses and business cards) I cannot find the tokens during the day, argh!

![]() |
Hard to figure out from the picture, but this is a scene of nuclear hilarity |
The Swissky Mafia giggle like schoolboys who just made a prank. I need not ask why; they are too proud to tell me.
They approached Serge Valentin (of whiskyfun.com -- he was doing the Clynelish bit of the masterclass) with a camera in hand. As he was making sure his hair was presentable, they asked him... if he would take a picture of them!
Shits 'n giggles indeed.
'Hi, pat gva.' 'Try this Sheriff's Bowmore 7yo' It turns out to be watery, but the nose!... |

Hoopoe! |

pat gva, who is infinitely more patient and magnanimous than I am, offers them his Miltonhaugh (see earlier). They study the label carefully, but seem unimpressed and struggle to show much gratitude -- or perhaps it is down to cultural difference, I do not know. In any case, one leaves his full glass on the table.
I spot SS with an empty glass and run up to him. I ask him what his favourite dram is, after two days. He does not answer, but something more surreal happens.
'Do you remember we talked about auctions, the other day?'
'Errr... yes?' I lie.
'Come! I will introduce you to someone... This is IGY. She is in charge of the auction site. [to IGY] IGY, this is my friend from Switzerland. [to me] We are trying to set up partnerships with different countries. A, B and C are covered, now we are looking at D, E, F and others. Right, I will let you discuss.'
And off he goes.
...
'Hi IGY, I am actually from Belgium (it is in the name, innit) and I do not live there any longer. Nice to meet you, but I do not see how I can help you.'
IGY asks me a few questions regardless and figures out pretty quickly that I can indeed not do much for her. We have a slightly awkward chat (I have been drinking for five hours!) before she offers me a drop of:
Lagavulin 24yo 1991/2016 (52.7%, OB 200th Anniversary, Sherry Butt, 522b): it is a Lagavulin, bold and peaty. I do not care much for it, to be honest. I give it to SLK, who is a much better audience for it.

I run to Skinner's stand to take pictures of the bottles I missed. A punter is timidly trying to buy the remainders:
'What do you do if you don't have enough whisky left to take the bottle back?'
'Fill it with tea and sell it on eBay,' I say.
It did not get a laugh, that one :-)
Long John jug |
The show is over, people are leaving. We are simply delaying the inevitable.


Time to bid EG and GG good bye, at the far end of the room. Nadi Fiori says good bye too and tells me to eat pasta.
'Actually, I could eat pasta, right now.'
'It is a piece of advice! Eat more pasta!'
We leave pat gva (we will see him again in the morning) and MV, who needs to prepare for his flight. He will tell us tomorrow morning that his suitcase finally made it to Glasgow, hours before he has to leave.
Time to go. Apart from the exhibitors dismantling their stands and the cleaners, we are the only ones left.
What a day!
My mood and impressions after day 2 are far more positive than yesterday's. This formula requires a lot of planning and discipline, yet it can make sense. Well glad I joined in on the fun, after all. It was also much more pleasant with seats and tables to spend time at, although it made for less efficient dramming (or did it?)
As many have observed, though: where are the locals? I think we saw half a dozen Scots only. I suspect the price point is too high to appeal to them and, considering most of the whisky enthusiasts live elsewhere (south of the border, the Continent, Asia, ...), this unfortunately might be perceived as an upper-class shindig that the locals cannot afford and are not interested in, with a similar effect to setting a golf club for billionaires in a ravaged, post-industrial town. Of course, this is where whisky is made. I simply am not sure how it is perceived by the local clientele, the very people who make the whisky.
Another oddity is that some stalls were almost always empty. Then again, some prices seemed less fair than others, and the offer varied quite dramatically, from eight bottles at Catawiki's to over 150 at Bero's. It made certain stands more popular than others and some exhibitors look sometimes very 'ronery.'
Epilogue
Now would be a good time for food. I fancy a curry. The Swissky Mafia took JS's and my recommendation for lunch, earlier, and went to Bread Meats Bread. They will now follow us anywhere when it comes to food.The Wee Curry Shop it is, with backup plan at the Pig and the Butterfly.
The WCS is almost empty; they must be reaching the end of their shift. I believe it is with a mixture of satisfaction and dread that they see seven of us pass the door (SLK will join us after he has checked in).
One quick glance and the waiter goes, 'Seven pints?'
Laughs all round.
We giggle like schoolgirls after a gin and tonic when CD observes the waiter looks like Dave Broom; he *sort* of does -- a tanned Dave Broom.
One of the Mafiosi goes to the loo. When he comes back, the waiter asks the whole restaurant if it is OK to close the toilets for twenty minutes. More laughter (it seems to be unrelated, by the way).
The food is the usual great, with haggis pakoras stealing the show for everyone. No doubt they will go down in legend, as the fabled haggis nachos the Swissky Mafia had in Campbeltown. I have lamb sunghundi, JS has chilli garlic chicken and we share a peshwari naan and a saag panneer broccoli
![]() |
Haggis pakoras |
![]() |
Chilli garlic chicken |
![]() |
Lamb sunghundi |
![]() |
Saag panneer broccoli |
After the meal, CD pulls out a 1993 Laphroaig, which ends up in my mango lassi -- tropical fruit and peat, lovely.
R pours a dram of the Tomatin 20yo d.1965 (40%, Gordon & MacPhail Connoisseurs' Choice), which we had yesterday and still goes down a treat.
SLK departs as we leave the restaurant: he has an early flight tomorrow morning. The path back to our respective accommodations takes us past the Pot Still. That is where DH takes a leave. We enter, of course, and bump into the whisky-loving pianist, ceremoniously taking notes. He tells us we smell of curry...
![]() |
...and spends ten minutes sniffing our clothes! |
Great day. Legendary night.
![]() |
Yay! |