A good birthday walk

Been trying to avoid the news, but it's hard to not see the effects of the tragedy in Charleston. I live in a racist, violent country - ruled by guns. If rooms full of dead children and adults will not make us take a hard look at it, nothing will. The nation is not capable of real change, other than security theater.

So I unplugged yesterday while my wife and her sister went out to do sisterly things and wandered around Glasgow for the day. Took the train into an unknown part of town to me and visited the park where Third Lanark used to play.
An interesting, ghostly experience that was only missing morning mist on the pitch. Since I was there, I strolled past Hampden Park and had no idea it was in such a residential neighborhood, not unlike Wrigley Field.

Managed to get on the right trains at the right time and got back to Central Station intact. I keep getting turned around when in downtown Glasgow, my compass does not work, but once I find the Clyde River I can figure things out. Found an old chip/breakfast shop and smiled my way through a language barrier to get some food.

These people had some very, very thick Glaswegian accents but we were all nice to each other. They asked where I was from and so on. The chips were not good, the fish cooked ok, the tea was excellent as was the patter. Heard some outstanding cursing, great breakfast conversation to overhear.

Was lucky enough to remember to visit the Britannia Panoptican, one of the oldest Music Halls left in the world. It was a thrill to stand on the same stage where sixteen year old Stan Laurel made his theatrical debut, in 1906. The hall is being slowly restored and Judith Bowers is doing amazing work in stewarding the process, mostly on her own.

By then I was ready for a proper drink and headed to the Horseshoe since I missed it on my last visit.

After that it was time to once again hit the Pot Still. Fell in love with this place my last visit and that love only increased. Got into a fine conversation with a gentleman from Northern Ireland, had some good advice from Frank the proprietor and the whiskey was excellent. If there is a better selection of whiskey anywhere in the world, I'd like to see it. After a few my wife and sister showed up at the pre-determined time to get me out of there while I could still walk, but not before I had a Mortlach that was distilled in 1984.

Quieter day today. All continues to be well here.

What a Local

There are a lot of bars in Glasgow and it's not hard finding a good one. I'd been looking through travel guides and online sources to see if there were some interesting ones I missed.



A number of sites recommended The Pot Still so I figured it would get a shot. When I walked in a dog was staring at me. It was not causing any trouble, other than getting behind the bar, then gently sent off by the bartender.

This was what I saw.



I am not sure I have ever seen this type of whiskey collection in a bar before. I said it would take awhile before making my first choice. Eventually selected the malt of the month, a Glen Garioch. A tasty highland malt from one of the oldest distilleries in the country.

The bartender knows his malts. Very friendly and easily answers questions.

When it came time for my second, I asked about a trio of whiskeys on a shelf. He brought them down to show me.



Kilchoman is the first distillery to be built on Islay in 124 years. It was established in 2005, which means they do not even have a 12 year old whiskey to sell. The one I tried was 100% Islay made, from the malt grown, to the malting process. An estate grown whiskey. I had found my wheelhouse on the second try, and the drink was fantastic. All the peat, malt and smoke in fantastic balance. Pricey, but I was on vacation and not spending $70 for a bottle.

Said my goodbyes, but told them I'd be back.

I returned on Wednesday, did not order the 1953 from a distillery I do not remember that went for 55 pounds a shot, but a modest one.



Took a seat, read the papers. Ordered a Jura Prophecy and got into a conversation with a couple of locals.

"You are American?"

"Yes."

"Where are you from?"

"Columbus."

"Ah, Jack Nicklaus country."

And we talked about America. They loved Myrtle Beach, would live there but hated our health care system.

No one brought up Thatcher.

The Pot Still kept me from another bar I love, The Horseshoe. That collection of malts is outstanding, and will bring me there again.