Terrible beds. Jennifer’s pillows were big and cushy and our pillows were flat and awful. We had no coffee but we had instant coffee and it was bearable. But just. But it was such a cute little Croft that you couldn’t complain. Jen woke up and Ryan was already up - he started the fire, started laundry, had a poop and was in the shower by then. But laundry - no idea how to run these machines. It is, theoretically, like the machines in our motorhomes but these machines have 18 settings. I wish I was kidding but that is the Gods honest truth, 18 mother fucking settings. How knows how to run these?! You need a Masters Degree in Laundry Machining Engineering. Needless to say we don’t and - Every. Fucking. Load. Was. Wet. Luckily, this little home had fireplaces and used those to dry clothes…..circa 1723…
No breakfast (breakfast before a scotch distillery tour is for losers!) and on our way. Fuzz was behind the wheel this day. And away we go to Glenfiddich. Showed up. Beautiful. Amazing. Can’t wait to tour this piece of heaven…..DENIED ENTRY! Who knew that reservations were necessary?! Fuck the Popo! We bought a bottle and drank in the parking lot! Just kidding, we called 3 different distilleries before we found one that would accept 4 desperate Canuks! Just kidding- 1 desperate (Ryan), 1 enthusiastic (Jen), 1 pressured (me) and 1 indifferent (Fuzz). And as a luck would have it Cardhu Distilleries accepted the challenge. But first lunch at Craigellachie, Aberlour. So good and we met the tallest Scot I have ever seen - 6’ 7”! Food was good - Ryan had Roast beef dinner with Yorkshire pudding, Jen had Tomato Basil soup, Fuzz had Fish and chips and I had a Salmon sandwich, but, most importantly, we had 4 pints.
On to the distillery - again Fuzz, our fairly virgin driver was following directions from 3 navigators and did amazingly well! Arrived at Cardhu - I was almost killed by flying appples, but my amazing ninja skills saved my life, and met up with our tour group. 2 gay (sorry, blog break - just dropped my iPad so Jen could top up my wine glass with beer because I’m done with wine, whole Jen is talking about buying the same kind of couch we are sitting on - just so the audience knows the struggles I deal with while blogging!) back to the story 2 gay Bostonians, 1 Floridian (who tried to be Fuzz’s best friend) and 7 East Indians. Jen and I were so worried about Ryan conversing about with the East Indians that we couldn’t really enjoy the tour. At the end we get 6 drams of scotch in a beautiful tasting room. Ryan and Fuzz (on their honeymoon) sat across from Jen and I so we had control no over their behaviour. When Jen and I sat down on those incredibly slippery stools we both looked at one another and suffered from immediate PTSD. We looked behind us to see what we would knock over if we went down - it distracted us from enjoying our whisky. But as much as we were clenching our asses to those seats our entire focus was on Ryan. All the East Indians were chatting to one another and Ryan’s lips were moving constantly - the conversation the voices in his head were having that were trying to come out - and every fucking one of them with an East Indian accent! In the meantime, Jen and I are trying to be cool, sipping whisky “ out the bottle, not thinking’ ‘bout tomorrow” 🎶 - seriously - sipping whisky out of crystal glasses and they encourage you to sip water (not unlike Jen does for me on a daily basis) and we tip the water glasses up, and keep tipping, and keep tipping and then realize the water glasses are empty. And the East Indians are all laughing at us. And there we are - asses clenched, holding on to those seats, gagging whisky down, trying to be the fucking rock stars we are. So whisky tasting went well!
Back to the house, martini by the fire then to Tomintoul for supper. Great dinner, but I was so excited about the Highland Cow display they had 4 years ago, and low and behold, THE FUCKER WAS GONE! Nope, the lady said they sold it for £120! Fuck me! I would have paid £200 for it (don’t tell Ryan). Meanwhile Ryan was so excited about the huge bottle of Tomintoul Whisky they had on display, and low and behold the fucker was SOLD, for £16,000?! The bottle was on the Guinness Book and it was gone - but we would buy the cow before we ever spent the money on that Scotch!
Back home and played cards. Then to bed.
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