Drinking Deep

Today I was offered a bottle of whisky for £2,500.00 (the '.00' was on the price tag, for the avoidance of doubt, presumably). It is very old - I want to say 42 years, but obviously my memory made that number up - several decades, anyway. The vendor said that he had not tried it himself, but knows someone who has, who reported it to be "horrible". I bought a pair of gloves from the shop (Mull is the sort of place where you can buy gloves and whisky in the same shop)

Reflecting on this, it's possible I'm responding to a very effective marketing tactic. The last time I went to the shop the same man offered me a ukulele, but explained that he thought it is almost certainly overpriced and he needs to research its true value. That time, I bought a liquidiser. If I'm being fleeced, I'm enjoying it

We also spent over £15 at a 'shop' that is a shed with an honesty box. We have sold quite a lot of honey this way ourselves - many beekeepers do - and have never been short-changed by as much as a penny. I know people do sometimes sustain losses when selling this way, but the extent to which it continues makes me think this is rare

I collected a lot of happy memories today: a colourful sunrise, with rainbows, and a stark silhouette of a doe on the dawn skyline; a loch surface so still that I have a set of mirror-image pictures of the sky in the water, the hill and its reflection forming an ellipse and so on; another dramatic promontory with another ancient fort on it, waves crashing over ageless rock; a tiny fishing boat in a vast sea, surrounded by a cloud of gulls - in world cup season, I could hear the ghost of St Eric speaking to me; commerce as entertainment, as I have described above; and then this...

A wheelbarrow as narrative art. Parked in a flowing stream. Loaded with vegetation that is composting in situ - this tableau has clearly been in place for some time. What crisis let to this abandonment? What drama is now preventing its rescue? Some kind of Mexican stand-off relating to whose responsibility it is? A bet? A resentment made manifest? Something more morbid and tragic? Perhaps merely fecklessness

I can't afford the bottle, but I feel rich