As part of my birthday festivities, Cristina arranged a surprise trip to Glasgow. We were able to do this as England, considerately, places a bank holiday following my birthday. This is the third place in Scotland that we have visited, and like the previous two, it did not disappoint.

We stayed right in the city centre, which allowed us to walk everywhere we wanted to go and not have to worry about arranging transportation. Glasgow, at least the centre and a bit of the west end, is a really pretty and dynamic city. Our location couldn’t have been better because we were right next to several nice whisky bars and all the shopping and high street activities.

One thing that I still haven’t figured out is the abundance of hair stylists. I don’t know if it is just that area or if Glaswegians take their hair really seriously. We spent more time than expected shopping because the prices are so much cheaper than London’s. We visited a few metal bars and listened to actual Rock and Roll - a seeming rarity in London - and traditional Scottish folk music at a whisky bar.

We were a bit nerdy and didn’t do any hard partying or the like. We ate out only twice - where we sampled some haggis, naturally, and the rest of the time was spent walking about and touring museums. We did do our whisky shopping and attempted to track down some specific bottles. The iPhone’s GPS came in quite handy after we we were given directions by a liquor store clerk who was three sheets to the wind. I’m not certain if that is common practice or not, but he managed to confuse left and right as well as which landmarks to make these turns at. While he wasn’t particularly helpful, he was quite friendly.

We spent a bit of time watching TV in the hotel room. that was mainly just while we ate dinner picked up from M&S, but we kept getting sucked into programs because of the Scottish announcers. My favourite was a documentary on the importance of the oceans. The host’s accent frequently made ‘currents’ sound like, well, another ‘C’ word. I hurt my stomach laughing when he spent a good five minutes describing ‘these powerful, warm currents of the Mediterranean’.

We’ve come back with some good photos and great memories. We got a few bottles of whisky, and Cris got an Iron Maiden CD so she can reminisce about her metal days. We had a great time, and I’m certain we’ll be back for another long weekend there.

Without exception, everyone of the locals that we met and interacted with were amazingly friendly. The Scots have a bit of a reputation for having a personality akin to their prickly thistle, but that wasn’t our experience here. I have only been to Scotland once before and that was a trip to Edinburgh, where I wouldn’t say the people were unfriendly by any means, but the Ileach were markedly different.

Our publican was a salesman through and through whose chief aim seemed to be to convince us that whatever we could possibly want could be found at his hotel. A guided tour showing us every aspect of our room, the hotel and grounds to a proud walkthrough of his extensive menu was our introduction to him. Throughout our trip he was impeccably dressed and groomed in his suit while running about chatting to every guest while managing the bar, kitchen and hotel. He was like a Scottish Tasmanian Devil running by and enquiring about how you’re doing, how you slept and how your day was. He would barely wait long enough for an answer before disappearing with a thumbs up and an “Aye, that’s grand. That’s what important!”

We spent a good deal of time on Islay driving around and discovering new places. It was quite peaceful as our car stereo came equipped with a cassette deck and nothing else. Occasionally we could get a radio station playing either country music or a talk show in Gaelic. Generally we just drove around having a conversation or enjoying the sights in silence occasionally punctuated by my “Look out! Sheep!” every time one would bounce across the road in front of us.

When driving in the car you can’t pass another car without receiving a wave. People on the side of the road will wave at you. When walking about you can’t pass somebody on the sidewalk without a comment about the lovely weather and a how are you doing. Visits into shops are never of the quick “I’ll just pop in” variety as they will have an entire conversation with you ranging from the weather to whisky to history to the role of the Scotland in the UK or the UK in the EU.

And the Scots are proud of being Scots. English pounds are brought in by tourists and promptly deposited into bank accounts, because the only notes we saw in circulation were Scottish. Three different banks mint three different varieties which I’m certain is done to spite the English. They even have a £1 note. Many of the plates on cars bore an SCO with St. Andrew’s cross rather than the familiar GB and EU ring of stars.

What makes Islay whiskies so distinct? Well the truth seems to be that nobody quite knows for certain, and while there are a lot of theories and ideas, consensus has yet to be achieved.

I have been told in the past that the barrel is where whisky picked up its flavours as it matured. Undoubtedly that has a great influence on a whisky and is one of the reasons there are so many special finishes and double-matured varieties out there. I tried a Kilchoman new spirit that was three months old and while it looked like vodka since it had picked up no colours from the wood, it had a distinct peaty, smoky, whiskiness about it. Clearly the wood and age aren’t the defining characteristic.

The recipe similarly affects the final effect of the whisky. All of the distilleries used malt from Port Ellen Maltings Co. to their own specifics. Laphroaig also floor malts 20% of their own malt which undoubtedly contributes to that special Laphroaig flavour. Ardbeg claims to be the most heavily peated whisky because they order their malt at 50 ppm of phenols in the peat. This seems to be somewhat open to debate though as Laphroaig said their malts are 55 ppm and supplemented with 40 ppm malt from Port Ellen. Caol Ila and Lagavulin both go for 35 ppm and Bunnahabhain uses a scarce 2 ppm. Clearly this influences the final flavour, but how much so is open to debate.

The processes and equipment used leaves a mark on the final whisky. While Ardbeg uses more heavily peated malt, Lagavulin say they achieve more with their because they do a second distillation of 10 hours compared to Ardbeg’s 5 hours. The shapes of the stills are universally accepted to shape the flavour as well, just nobody knows why or how. The goosenecks on the stills at Lagavulin point down and our tour guide espoused the virtue of the design as quickly condensing and removing the good spirit. The goosenecks at Laphroaig point upwards and similarly the tour guide claimed that made it harder for distillate to leave therefore only removing the best of the spirit.

Geography plays a part too, even on an island as small as Islay. Perhaps it is the spray of seawater at one distillery and one peat field that makes a different. The lochs where they each draw their water might have subtle geological differences that end up in the dram. Ultimately a distillery worker at Laphroaig just shrugged and said, “You could take all of our equipment, our whole distillery and move it a half mile up the road. The whisky made wouldn’t taste the same.”

The distilleries are remarkable. Each of them produces whisky that is unique, even when several of them are within a stone’s throw of each other. They all seemed to have their own style and personality as well. Caol Ila is the giant of the island producing 23,500 litres of whisky a day, 95% of which goes to blends (notably Johnny Walker). Visiting it is probably similar to visiting a Budweiser brewery where efficiency and industry is emphasised. Its closest neighbour is Bunnahabhain, probably no more than 6 or 7 miles away albeit most of those miles are down a nerve-wracking, winding road. In contrast to Caol Ila’s polished brass and giant windows, Bunnahabhain provides a cozy feel with their visitor’s center seemingly styled after a Victorian drawing room.

In the center of the island lies the Bowmore distillery, situated right around the corner from our hotel. Its location in the heart of the town probably influenced its style and character as it resembled more of a community than a distillery. Down the road lies Bruichladdich, one of the newer distilleries as it was recently re-opened and restored.

Bruichladdich, while holding onto much of the old equipment and priding themselves on tradition, are the new marketing-savvy breed of distillers. At one bar the menu for Bruichladdich’s whiskies ran across three A4 pages of a binder. They are the Starbucks of single malt whisky. I mean no disrespect by that as they do make quality whisky, it’s just a comment on their marketing skills. Just as anyone can have ‘their’ latte (skinny, tall, half-caf, heated just so) anyone can find ‘their’ Bruichladdich.

It is to the south of the island where the truly distinctive ‘Islay whiskies’ are made. Laphroaig, Lagavulin and Ardbeg all lie along a single road so close together it was common to see people walking or bicycling from one to the other. For such a small neighbourhood, it’s impressive how unique each one is.

Lagavulin exudes class and care in the craft of making whisky. Ardbeg has a somewhat cheeky approach creating whiskies with names breaking free of their labels (Airigh Nam Beist) and their dog Shortie with the ’second peatiest nose on Islay’. Laphroaig prides itself on its traditions and the result of which is described as ‘the most richly flavoured Scotch whisky’. It’s hard to argue with that assessment although the flavour is a love it or hate it type of affair.

Mi Mujer and I spent five days on Islay and those days were indeed well spent. We had planned for a short holiday somewhere new where we could just get lost and spend the time together. We settled upon Islay, and by a happy coincidence we found that our trip coincided with the annual whisky and music festival, Feis Ile.

I learned a great deal about Islay and whisky while I was there and a fair bit about the Scots, or at least the Ileach as the islanders are known.

The island is small, roughly 240 square miles and sparsely populated with 3,000 residents. There are only a few towns, and they are small enough to walk from one end to the other with a cup of coffee. In between the towns are vast expanses of open land quite often overrun by the true residents of Islay: sheep, cows and birds.

Upon our arrival at the airport we asked for directions to Bowmore where we would be staying. We were told “turn left.” The island is quite easy to navigate because it mainly consists of one lane roads with very few intersections and not a traffic light that we saw. Maps all seem to be of the hand-drawn variety and directions consist of a single road. While the roads can be a bit stressing while cresting a hill and rounding a blind corner in a road scarcely wider than our car, we encountered little traffic and few difficulties.

The island itself is almost entirely made on peat. Pure water can be tinged a brownish/black simply from filtering through the peat. The roads buckle, bend and break as peat is apparently not a great surface to pave. We saw peat cutters working in a field outside the airport, which we later learned was for Laphroaig, and they had cut troughs easily 12 feet deep. The peat was then stacked in piles looking like chocolate bricks.

While peat wreaks havoc with roadworks, it makes Islay particularly well suited to make whisky. It is as if God had decided to create an island solely for whisky making. The locals are respectful of that decision and are currently running at least 8 different distilleries. It is easy to see that distilling is the backbone of the Islay economy.

I love many things about living in London, but occasionally I miss little things such as good American IPAs, sunny weather and Mexican food. Sometimes I miss the bigger things like the bill of rights. Free speech ‘traditions’ be damned. I prefer my rights, such as the First Amendment, to be in writing to prevent just this sort of thing; A teenager is facing prosecution for calling Scientology a ‘cult’.

The act this 15-year-old is accused of violating is the ominously Orwellian named ’Public Order Act’ which prohibits using words that are ‘abusive and insulting’. Calling Scientology a cult is ‘abusive and insulting’? I think it’s more of a case of calling a spade a spade.

Since my last post poked some fun at the cult organisation seeking to separate its followers from their money and family, I will refrain from saying more lest I end up in court. You can, however, visit this handy site named after the alien overlord at the center of Scientology for more information.

update: Apparently I am free to refer to Scientology as a cult again. So, Scientology is a cult, scam and a con. But the London police might be in on it… Aliens everywhere!

Darth Vader received a suspended sentence after attacking two Jedi Masters with a lightsaber after breaching their church’s defenses. In Wales.

Darth Vader, er 27-year-old Arwel Wynne Hughes wearing a black bin bag, attacked two members of the Jedi church in March. He cunningly found the flaw in their perimeter by leaping the hedge and shouting “Jedis! Darth Vader!”.

The two Jedi masters related the harrowing tale in Intergalactic/Wales district court. Master Jonba Hehol -aka 27-year-old Welsh hairdresser Barney Jones - was struck over the head with the lightsaber - aka metal crutch. His cousin and co-founder of the Church of Jediism, Anglesey order, Master Mormi Hehol - or more informally, Michael Jones - was struck in the thigh by the Sith Lord’s weapon leaving a rather dark bruise.

Darth Hughes claims to have no memory of the event due to either a Jedi mind trick or his drinking of a 10-litre box of wine beforehand. Fortunately the two Jedi Masters recorded the whole event on a camcorder they had set up to film themselves having a lightsabre duel.

Master Mormi Hehol, skilled in recognising danger in his dual role as head of sect security and Poundsaver employee, thanked their lucky stars; “If it had actually been Darth Vader with a real lightsaber, things might have been more serious”.

Jonba Hehol put the inter-sectarian violence in context, “We all love the films and what they stand for. Obviously some people are going to laugh about it. But a lot of people do take it seriously.”

Hey, it’s not as weird as Scientology.

Great tits cope well with warming. Insert your own joke here. All of mine will just increase my bizarre search hits.

I’m beginning to think there is something to the whole pagan idea of sacrificing people to appease the gods. While headlines and alarmist reports of studies indicate that virgins are becoming quite scarce here, Labour politicians are quite abundant. Well, that is they were quite abundant until the elections tossed a load of them into the volcano. This clearly pleased Gaia / Huitzilopochtli / L. Ron Hubbard as we now have sunny weather!

It’s a great time to be in London, unless you happen to be one of the aforementioned sacrificial lambs. While everybody else enjoys the wonderful weather—complete with sun!— the Labour party seems to be firmly entrenched in what is shaping up to be the summer of their discontent.

I couldn’t vote in the election due to my Yanqui-ness but it was pretty hard not to follow it in the papers. Ken Livingstone is no longer mayor, a fact that I consider a distinct improvement over him being mayor. During the elections when he would crow about his achievements, he always listed transportation first. I’m not sure if you realised it Ken, but the transportation isn’t all that reliable and is obscenely expensive. He always struck me as somebody who is a terribly earnest acolyte of ‘his’ causes but rather incompetent in creating effectual policies. Combined with his supersized ego, that’s a dangerous combination in a politician.

So now we have the ‘Blonde Buffoon’, Boris! I’m pretty happy about that because: a) he’s far more entertaining and b) he’s not Ken Livingstone. Boris has now banned alcohol on public transport which I support because I always thought it was weird that it was legal to drink on the bus. He’s pissed off at least one transport union with that and since their strike last year, they engender little sympathy from me, so I consider that a good start.

So now I look forward to a brilliantly sunny weekend and one where we will most likely attempt a BBQ with friends. Please, please let this be a sign of a good summer ahead. There aren’t that many Labour pols left.

Good news, hipsters iPhone owners! O2 has just announced that they will be reducing the monthly tariffs on the iPhone. This move is largely due to less sales than anticipated; while 200,000 iPhones have been activated, this number falls 10,000 short of what Apple and O2 wanted.

Customers on the £55/month plan will see a £10 price drop on their monthly bill while those on the £35/month will get three times as many minutes and double the text messages that they had before.

This is good news for anyone who already bought an iPhone, as well as those who are planning on getting one soon. I love the iPhone and I want one rather badly. I think it’s a brilliantly designed piece with a great deal of potential. I’m not buying one just yet.

Sales of the iPhone will improve with these price cuts. Sales will improve more when the 3G version is released soon. But if Apple really wants to send sales skyrocketing they’ll ditch this locked in contract with 02.

Apple iPhone