Our trip to Islay had gotten off to a simply dreadful start. Having driven for many, many hours from home, we thought we’d planned for every eventuality. We had stocked the car with at least twenty bottles of booze, a fine selection of meats, and a small travel humidor. Of course we all had our gentlemanly evening wines, stowed in our suitcases, as well as a modest selection of liqueurs, cocktails and Ron de Jeremy. We felt confident we would be making the most of what was, essentially, a week off. More...