Readers may recall a recent PostScript which featured the formidable waters of Scotland's Corryvreckan whirlpool, which almost claimed the life of author George Orwell in 1947. The whirlpool is potentially so treacherous that the Royal Navy reportedly classify it as "unnavigable".
But it seems you can experience the excitement of the Gulf of Corryvreckan from the comfort of your armchair.
According to a Scottish friend and former colleague, now living in Australia, "It is possible to experience the sensation of being sucked into a Hebridean whirlpool by imbibing Ardbeg Corryvreckan, a robust single malt whisky sold at 57.1% abv rather than the customary 40%."
This missive aroused my curiosity concerning the Ardbeg distillery, located in a lovely spot on the island of Islay. So what does Ardbeg Corryvreckan taste like? The distillery's website claims "swirling torrents of deep, peaty, peppery taste lurk beneath the surface of this beautifully balanced dram". It adds a cautionary note that "like the whirlpool itself, Corryvrekan is not for the fainthearted", something I would not dispute.
If my Scottish friend, who is something of an authority on malt whisky, calls it "robust" then it definitely packs a punch. For those who remain unconvinced, there are many reviews of Ardbeg Corryvracken on the website whiskyexchange.com. My favourite, from a fellow called Steve, reads:
"A life-changing experience. Like being punched in the face then gently laid down on a bed of burning cinders."
Think I'll stick to beer.
Rural rides
I confess to not having a taste for whisky, but on occasions in Thailand I have consumed the local brew Mekhong, which though advertised as a whisky is, in fact, a rum, primarily made from sugarcane molasses. From bitter experience, it can either create a pleasantly mellow feeling when consumed in moderation, or a horrendous hangover if you overindulge.
Not being a huge fan of whisky or rum, over the years I have tried to avoid Mekhong, usually without much success. If you are out in the provinces and the locals produce a bottle of Mekhong or its close relative SangSom, it is difficult to escape the odd snifter or two. You just pray they don't bring out the lao khao which is absolutely lethal. You'll hate yourself in the morning if you drink it.
In the distant past when I had the energy to hike around the remoter parts of Thailand with Post colleague Tony Waltham, we often took a baen (a half bottle) of Mekhong with us. It proved a very useful way of getting to know the villagers you stumbled upon.
They were always delighted to share a glass or two of the golden stuff when we turned up on their doorstep unannounced and they didn't care whether it was called whisky or rum. On occasions it extended into a full session and some of our long treks ended up considerably shorter than we had intended thanks to Mr Mekhong.
Living on village time
In the provinces there is definitely a different approach to drinking alcohol, as I experienced in an Udon Thani village some years ago.
It was a housewarming party for a senior villager and the monks arrived shortly after 6am. The place was really buzzing as the ladies pounded away with their pestles to ensure the som tam production line kept running smoothly. At 7.45am a villager poured me a beer, not quite what I had in mind at that time of day. As much as I enjoy a slurp of the amber liquid, it is usually after dark and rarely before 9pm.
So the beer just sat there as I searched for an excuse not to consume it without offending anyone. However, after several enquiries from villagers who thought there was something wrong with me for not touching the beer, it seemed that a token sip would be appropriate to show I was in a party mood.
Of course, it wasn't long before the sip became a steady guzzle, sparking the inevitable slide into disarray.
The ice age
The defining moment at the housewarming came about 9.20am when I found myself staring at a large glass of wine a villager had placed in front of me. It was stuffed with ice cubes. I was just about to explain that ice in wine is perhaps not a good idea, when I looked around. Just about everyone was drinking wine with ice. So I duly took a sip and it wasn't too bad, although it would have tasted better mid-evening rather than early-morning.
But when you are out in the sticks there comes a time when you have to forget all those Bangkok hang ups and inhibitions and just go for it. No one else at the house-warming seemed to care less that it was still early morning, so why should I?
Out of Nowhere
Many thanks to everyone who attended the book signing for The Long Winding Road to Nakhon Nowhere last Tuesday evening at the splendid CheckInn99.
It was great to make so many new friends and also run into old pals I hadn't seen for ages. Rounding the evening off in terrific style were the Rolling Stones tribute band Midnight Ramblers who gave a rousing performance.
Okay, I know it's only rock 'n' roll, but I like it.
Contact Postscript via email at oldcrutch@gmail.com