Uisge beatha

It's that time when the ghosts of Christmas past come out to roam.

Last night, with home made lentil soup and a halloumi buttie at the ready, I settled down for a Friday with Iplayer. Slightly randomly I picked Addicted to Pleasure: Whisky a documentary presented by Scot's actor Brian Cox. It " delved into the history of Scotland's national drink, revealing its origins, the rise in addiction in the 19th century and what it did for Scotland's reputation".

As I watched, my Balvenie Signature 12 year old got slightly closer to the end of it's life. A year since I popped the cork of this beautiful golden nectar; citricy fruitiness, mellow cinnamon spiciness....leaving a warm glow from my tongue to my toes. A real luxury.

The documentary was moving, to me at least. Cox spoke of the impact of whisky on the culture of Scotland, how it was used by the many to dull the pain of poverty and how the masses became addicted to it. How it was traditional for working men to spend most of their pay on 1/4 gills and 1/2 pints of heavy until they couldn't stand. Scotland's reputation for being a hard drinking nation was well deserved.

My mum once lost the dog as she was walking along the banks of the River Esk. Hours later in a panic, she received a call from the landlord of The Auld Brig. The dog was in the pub, having been there for hours! That was where my Dad 'went walking the dog for hours on end" and she had simply wandered in as was the norm.

My Dad was a nice drunk. He blethered pish but it was mainly harmless; he was a popular and well loved character. As with many Scots, my parents didn't drink too much whisky anymore, but preferred vodka and gin. My mum wasn't such a nice drunk...her moods swung and she went from being a loving mum to a screeching witch. I hated the nights of arguments or the loud Pavarotti, preventing me from sleeping. We all have arguments when we're teenagers but they're worse when your mum has a bottle of gin inside her.

My Granny n Jim weren't much different. Granny's 25 stone heft had been dragged before the courts several times for drink driving. Jim was once arrested for hitting Granny over the head with a full bottle of wine....he wouldn't have wasted good whisky!! One Xmas when a few of my mates were at Gran's, she had had a wee bit much and decided she fancied a bit of young stuff..... "f**king easy...Granny" she was told by my mate Pessie.....a comedy moment indeed.

So it's Xmas again. Mum, Dad, Granny n Jim are gone.....their passings all related to drink or tobacco issues. I don't really miss them, well apart from my Dad a bit. After mum died, I gave up on him because I was fed up with the drinking. I did love him though and probably should have told him that before he died. What the programme told me was that my family experience of the drink wasn't that much different to millions of Scots over the last couple of hundred years. I've probably been over critical of the parents as they were simply victims of culture and circumstance.

Progress aye...... a wee dram of the water of life is a real treat for me and my last bottle taking a whole year to drink. Fine coffee is my regular tipple of choice. OK, so my own history won't win me a life time achievement award with The Temperance Society but none of us are perfect! Thanks for a fine history lesson Mr Cox!

May gravels round his blather wrench,
An' gouts torment him, inch by inch,
What twists his gruntle wi' a glunch
O' sour disdain,
Out owre a glass o' whisky-punch
Wi' honest men!

Rabbie Burns