18 September 2016

Today is September 18^th. The day after my 12^th wedding anniversary. We were kid-free last night (mother-in-law swooped in and took for the night), so had a lovely night together, just the wife and I. Nice to have that time together before leaving for a longish stretch. We’ll get the kids back around noon today, I imagine. After that I will milk every last minute with my beautiful daughters, before hopping the plane for Glasgow tomorrow morning. In short, I think this is the last lead-up post before we hit Scottish soil. Not sure if I’ll be able to do much blogging from there, so we may not be in touch (excepting Twitter and Facebook) until I return to Canadian soil. So how ‘bout one last jotting before go time?

I did promise to introduce this ragtag assortment of beasts who are travelling together, so…who are these strapping young men (and withered old bastards)?

Tone. The little big man. At one point in his misguided younger days he was a bit of a rummie, but fortunately we’ve managed to fix that. Tone brings an easygoing Rasta swagger to his day-to-day and a watchful ‘take it all in’ kinda vantage. His laid back styles will be the mellowing influence that helps me fully appreciate the slower side of things. And considering we’ll already be on Islay time that will be slow indeed.

Danny. The ‘Viking’. Or ‘The Beard’. No one I know has embraced malts with this sort of enthusiasm, eidetic memory and…errr…let’s face it, thirst, since…well, ever. Of all the guys that need the fierce might of Islay malts to smash headlong into their huge personality it would be Danny. There’s a profound hunger for good times in this lad. And I’m sure we’ll find some with him in tow (or in the lead?).

Steve. Generally we call him Simcoe. He’s a quiet ‘un. Until you wind him up with a couple drinks and start discussing social programs, Canadian government or some of the more delicate societal issues many folks think about but few dare to tackle head-on. Then he’s a regular Charlie Mothafuckin’ Bronson. Steve’s like me in many ways; far too buried in big city life these past few years. I think his internal baggage and mine will fall away at the same time. The moment our feet touch town on foreign shores and the pull of real world ‘adulthood’ lessens.

And of course yours truly. Wordslinger. Shit disturber. Sadist. Masochist. Whatever. If you’ve been visiting here for a while you all know me. ‘Nough said.

I think we’ve ironed out all our wee little travel wrinkles and, as much as possible, are about ready to go. Unfortunately it’s now looking like the surprise I was hoping to have come to fruition (and have been hinting at) is probably not gonna happen. Can’t lie; I’m a little heartbroken. It would have made for some cool blogging, but more importantly, some cool memories. Such is. Just in case some miracle happens to come together, I’ll still not reveal here until after the trip.

I plan to share all details when we get back, but unfortunately I’ve simply run out of time to give any more notes on the leadup and planning stages. As always, I’ll take meticulous notes on the daily ins and outs, as well as all drams sampled along the way. Well…notes of what drams were sampled, not necessarily notes on the drams themselves.

Look forward to catching up with you soon, mates. Gotta run. 24 hours of family time ‘til wheels up. Peace.

 – Curt