In December 2019, I was thinking about Christmas presents. When you get to my age, there really is nothing I want (except for a tea towel, of course) or need. Gwyn was very clever; she knew that I didn’t collect books anymore but just read from a Kindle. She bought me five Kindle books; I enjoy reading but with Kindle, don’t have to collect more things than I have room for (except tea towels).
The reality is that most of my friends are the same age as me, and they face the same problem. I was trying to think of something ‘different’ for a couple of my friends who I know like whisky, a good single malt. I needed a ‘Whisky Shop’.
“Do you know of a ‘Whisky Shop’?” I ask Liz as we are driving into Aberdeen. “I know there used to be a distillery in Aberdeen. A local whisky would be good for Jenny”
“On Union Street” replies Liz. I couldn’t think where. “Up near where Jean lived”
“Can we go?” I ask, excited.
“Terrible parking” she says “but I could drop you off on Victoria Street”
“OK, I’ll give it a try”. Not a whisky drinker myself but I have always loved a ‘Whisky Shop’; often a small place, old wooden shelves, crammed full with so many different whiskies, the place to buy Single Malt and staffed by knowledgeable staff. The fact is I enjoy a chat about whisky; I love hearing about the differences between whisky from the Hebrides and Speyside, from the Lowlands and Central Highlands. I like the names (many of which are impossible to pronounce), the history, the ageing process.
It didn’t stand out from the crowd, a narrow shop, packed full of boxes and a queue of people, onto the pavement. I couldn’t peer through the window because too many people blocked the view. I looked up, and it was called ‘Aberdeen Whisky Shop’, couldn’t be a better name. It occurred to me that I wasn’t going to be the most popular customer; there were people discussing buying bottles of whisky at more than £100 each. I wanted to talk about a couple of miniatures!
I stood quietly in the queue and waited my turn.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re busy and I’m not a whisky drinker. I was looking for a couple of miniatures, Single Malts, as local as possible. My friend has completed the Speyside Whisky Trail, and maybe a couple from Skye”.
“We only have a limited amount of miniatures but I’ve got a few out the back”. He climbed over the boxes that had been abandoned all over the floor, out to the back store. Time passed by and he emerged carrying nine different single malts. There were still people queueing, possibly for big sales, yet he talked me through every one, describing the flavour, the location of the distillery and which he considered to be the best. I could trust him; they were all the same price so he wasn’t going for the most expensive.
I bought four and, as he was wrapping them up individually, I asked, on the off chance, “I don’t suppose you have a tea towel associated with whisky?”
“You mean like this” he said, holding up a tea towel of the Distilleries of Scotland.
“Just like that” I said, snatching it out of his hand, holding it up and laughing. “I’ll take that as well”.
A tea towel with eight distilleries on it; I’ve even visited three of them. Each distillery is hand drawn and painted and then transferred digitally onto fabric. I love it. I returned the following day, to buy four more whiskies, different ones, so I could listen to the stories again and think that I may come back the next time I’m in Aberdeen!
myteatowels 