Many moons ago when I was working at the Edinburgh deli Valvona and Crolla I was complimented by a wine writer on my sense of smell. As the waitress I was serving rosy glasses of grenache wines to an eager audience. I’m never backward in coming forward and piped up with various aromas I found. Knowing me I was likely having a few cheeky sips as well.

My budding vocation as a cheese buyer lasted two years before I ventured on to The Vaults and stumbled upon single cask, cask strength Scotch whisky. Once again my nosing abilities were noted by Charlie MacLean during a day at Society Whisky School. Charlie chaired the weekly tasting panels where our task was to describe what we encountered in the glass. The Society tasting notes are renowned. ‘Wet spaniel on an Islay beach’. ‘Orange oil on a wetsuit’.

My first attempts at describing what I nosed in the glass were decidedly timid. Smoke, fruit, floral? Like many novices I was cautious to verbalise what I found, but that my first impression was usually in line with what Charlie found. Where he found crisp acidity I described lemon posset, creamy American oak I described Victoria sponge. He honed my narrative. A blast of phenols. But was it maple cured bacon or an old fashioned medicine
cabinet?

Aromas we have encountered growing up are embedded in our memory like a fingerprint and are linked to the experience of emotion we encounter when we identify it. Our vocabulary is formulated from these encounters and used to dissect and describe aroma and taste. The language we use can be hedonistic or analytical.

At the Society, I had found my vocation and I became an earnest student, my holidays revolved around camping trips around the distillery map of Scotland. I would load up the clapped out company car with my tent and a plan of distilleries to visit. My epiphany dram was Lagavulin 16 YO in the Palm Court bar in the Balmoral Hotel. It made sense to make Islay my first pilgrimage. I wrote in my diary that I was ‘completely charmed by the island and the industry I have found myself in!’ I found a good spot at Kintra farm overlooking the Big Strand in early summer sunlight. A light wind kept the midges at bay and I had poured a dram of Ardbeg 17 YO. As I flash fried my langoustines, sipping my dram, a pod of porpoise wove through the breaking waves. When I put my nose into a glass of Ardbeg this is the memory I recall vividly. The salty breeze off the sea, warm sand and machir. A dram and a sizzling pan.

On the same holiday as I gathered experiences like shells on the beach, my vocabulary grew. A couple of years later I returned with my Society friend who I had introduced to camping. We arrived at Lagavulin on my birthday and during the tour I spotted a small cask with the year of my birth stencilled on the end. Pinkie was delighted and wasted no time in pulling a sample which we collectively inhaled from the flask. Reverently, we absorbed the
aromas of dank warehouse, salt laden air, musty bungcloths. Spirit maturing in oak and all of that captured in that moment. On the tour was SMWS member number one who invited us both for tea on his boat moored in Lagavulin bay. A couple of years later I returned to the warehouse with Pinkie but the cask had gone. But not my memory.

Your sense of smell is like a time machine filing away memories like a rolodex of aromas and their associations. A waft of scent under your nose can evoke the long-term memory triggering the neural pathways to the lower brain. The limbic system has evolved linking our emotional response to scent.

In 2007, I started my role as Global Brand Ambassador for Glenmorangie. My business card pronounced I was a ‘sensory whisky creator’ which invited an array of responses. Around the same time I met Imogen Russon-Taylor who was Head of Global Brand Communications. The ‘new world’ of Glenmorangie was about to be released after years of precision development. The Whisky Creation team led by Dr Bill Lumsden worked with perfumier Dr George Dodd. I’d encountered George a few years before when Charlie and I partook in a workshop to create our own fragrance. Charlie’s was inspired by whisky and was woody, spicy and well whiskyish. Mine was an extraordinary experiment as I dabbled with peach oil. I can’t remember the ingredients but strangers would stop me to ask what it was.

The ‘Kaleidoscope’ was created after using gas chromatography to analyse the burst of aromas from the spirit, imagery was used to describe vibrant top notes, floral heart notes and heavier base notes. As a trained artist and the only member of the team without a chemistry background I enthusiastically shared the ‘Kaleidoscope’ with audiences around the world. Our sense of smell is intuitive and personal but this gave a pathway into the
exploration of whisky.

Imogen and I became friends during our time at Glenmorangie and we stayed in touch when we moved on. She developed Kingdom Scotland, creating fragrance inspired by her education in geology and passion for Scotland. The threads of whisky are inherently tangled into the diverse landscapes where they are made.

‘I was struck by the deep connection between whisky and perfume: both born from distillation, both sensory journeys of complexity and craft, and both shaped by the natural ingredients and traditions that give them character.’

Imogen’s idea was to knit these threads together, with storytelling at the heart. My time at art college was spent threading looms to weave cloth. Now the threads are whisky and fragrance entwined together.

https://annabelmeikle.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/KOTQ-AM.pdf

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On Easter Monday, I raced back from a sunny dog walk with my best friend and her loopy flattie and then a quick workout with my PT, which just allowed me enough time to sit down with John Beattie. John was recovering from a bout of laryngitis, but to be honest, I couldn’t detect this from his usually gravelly tone. I have worked with John in my past incarnation as The Whisky Belle and enjoy his relaxed but inquisitive style of reporting. 

“The most important thing,” she says, “is to drink whisky in the way you like it and what’s appropriate to the occasion.”

“When I travelled through Asia,” I recall, “people were drinking whisky with green tea, with ice and with water. And, you know, if you’re in a warm, humid climate, that’s a really pleasant way to enjoy it.”

John was brought up in Malaysia, and he fondly reminisced about his father pouring a dram in the evening, and his lingering memory of his mother was enjoying brandy and ginger ale, smoking Benson and Hedges. 

A fellow ‘resting’ artist who worked alongside me at the delicatessen Valvona and Crolla’s had started work at The Vaults, the original home to the Scotch Malt Whisky Society. Instantly, I was enchanted by the Member’s Room with its imposing bar display with the uniform green bottles. The contents of these seemed even more mysterious given the Society’s number code, all adding to the illusive charm of single malt. 

“And I just thought this is my world. But they didn’t really have a job. So I said: ‘Well I can work on the bar.’ And I did a couple of shifts, and I made sandwiches for the chef who used to buy cheese from me. And that was it.” Thankfully, the offer of a role to join my friend to deliver tasting events followed after four weeks. And the adventure began. 

Our office was at the end of the corridor, so as staff we padded up and down to refill our mugs and discuss the latest bottlings with regular members. The atmosphere was hushed during the morning with only the rustle of newspapers and hiss of endless coffee brewing, and subsequently stewing. My abiding memory of the Member’s Room was the aroma of burnt coffee and whisky mingling together. 

There was a strict policy of no mobile phones in the Members’ Room, and when an inadvertent ringtone pierced the tranquillity, disapproving looks would follow.  During lunchtime, there was a satisfied rumble of chatter, with members sharing drams with restorative, freshly made soup and hearty sandwiches. The evening traffic would start gently with a variety of disparate pilgrims to the Society. I learned my trade on both sides of the bar, which actively encouraged discussion, disagreement and delight in equal measures about the whisky. I started my education at Society Whisky School with the late Dr Jim Swan and my mentor Charlie MacLean who challenged me to differentiate between yellow and pink sugared almonds, fresh bonfire smoke and smouldering peat fires. 

I have always understood that there are rules, but have a healthy disregard for them. John and I discussed that I feel “very passionately about getting people to understand whisky, because there’s an awful lot of supposed rules about liking whisky; and you can only drink it in a certain way at a certain time of day; and you generally have to be a man. There’s a lot of that, which I think you can just sweep out of the way.”

“I feel I almost have a duty to get people to understand and like whisky on their terms,” Annabel continues. “And I take it as a bit of a personal challenge to find a whisky that somebody [who says they don’t like whisky] will like, whether it’s soft and gentle or whether it’s a big smoky, peaty monster. There’s something in there for everybody.”

I’ve always been conscious of having no training to educate an audience about whisky. I’ve worked with enough scientists, writers and industry boffins to fuel my imposter syndrome but years ago a colleague suggested that enthusiasm and passion were my qualifications. I wasn’t shackled with the necessity to impress my listeners and instead I genuinely like to find the key to unlock their understanding and appreciation of what sits before them in their glass. 

If it’s in your glass, it’s your whisky, was my mantra. 

I invited cheese makers to the chaos of the shop at weekends and delighted in the epicurean adventure I was on. I harbored a pipedream of tending to a few goats and sheep, perhaps a Jersey cow and making cheese. It never happened. All roads lead to The Vaults and I tumbled down the rabbit hole of whisky.

As I planned my first Members tasting, I drew on my foodie background and suggested pairing the five cask strength, hand-poured drams with some cheese. Twenty-five years ago, this was unheard of, you might be lucky to have an oatcake to nibble on as you tackled the glasses of glinting liquid. In the interview, I explained that bringing food to the table took away some of the fear factor, and helped audiences to find parallels in describing the characteristics they found in their cheese mirrored what emerged from the glass. 

I had prepared John a small picnic containing three whiskies to pair with cheese, chocolate and salami which he described as ‘incredible’. 

The first was an exclusive small batch expression from Clynelish Distillery, bottled by Royal Mile Whiskies. I have a real soft spot for Clynelish, both young and old. My mother used to arrange the flowers at St Giles Cathedral and as a child I’d dally up and down the aisles absorbing the aromas of polished wood, beeswax candles, stiff chrysanthemum and dusty leatherbound bibles. Older expressions of Clynelish take me there instantaneously. We sampled the younger sibling who had the trademark waxy, flinty, citrus fruits and a creamy sweetness. I’d paired Clynelish successfully in the past with the ‘crumblies’ Kirkham’s Lancashire, Appleby’s Cheshire and introduced John to Gorwydd Caerphilly. My aim is to find balance and parity, to complement and enhance. The cheese yielded lively lemony flavours with a creamy mouthfeel, and hinted of earthy mushroom compost.

I find it challenging to not include a Glenmorangie expression in a tasting, and Quinta Ruban is a faithful and flirtatious friend. During my tenure, one of my favourite tasks was to don my steel-toe caps, head to the warehouse and nose the newly arrived port pipes which would be filled with matured spirit for its extra maturation. The huge casks smelled heady with red florals and cocoa beans.

I had chosen Alter Eco Peruvian chocolate with flavours of red berries and an intensely dry finish. Perfect bedfellows. The Glenmorangie delivered a bundle of mint chocolate, crystallised orange with pepper in the finale. Finish can be overlooked in appreciating whisky; Quinta Ruban is like velvet.

The third pairing was Ardnamurchan Sherry Cask Release which packed a leathery boxing glove punch of Pedro Ximénez, umami meatiness and beach bonfires.  I’d recently discovered East Coast Cured virtually on my doorstep which was established by Steven and Susie Anderson. In ‘Salamiland’ they produce among other cured meats, Kielbasa which is seasoned with caraway and smoked over cherry wood. The pairing was sublime. The whisky is oily and elemental, the salami dry and aromatic. 

We met (virtually), we nosed, we tasted and we shared a collective, in John’s words a passion that sometimes transcends vocabulary, and can only be expressed in simple three letter utterance: “Mmm, mmm, mmm…”

Listen and watch the full podcast by clicking on the YouTube image below.

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On Monday night I was thrilled to be attending the Keepers of the Quaich spring banquet at Blair Castle. This time last year, powered by copious amounts of coffee and bacon rolls, the current Head Tracy and I were sifting through the 12,000 images that the squad of photographers led by Shannon Tofts had taken during the evening. I had completed my last banquet of 17 after ten years in the role as Director of the Society. 

Now at the helm of the organisation Tracy was skillfully navigating her way through the preparation and evening that means so much to those guests who attend. It was a joy to see her deliver this seemingly so effortlessly; I understand only too well the pressure and step count that entailed. As Ginger Rogers said of Fred Astaire she did everything he did “backwards and in high heels” which summed up the experience of running the banquet. Although Tracy sensibly had her flats on. 

As a trustee of The MacLean Foundation it was with pride I watched the three brothers, Ewan, Jamie and Lachlan with their father Charlie striding up the red carpet to the castle entrance flanked by the Atholl Highlanders. It was the first time that the Society had three speakers, brothers and they are the youngest to have been inducted. One Master, and three Honorary Keepers of the Quaich. I don’t know the collective term for quaichs but this was a healthy handful. And more medals for the MacLean household.

After an inspiring introduction by the current Grand Master, The Earl of Hopetoun, Jamie piped Ewan and Lachlan to the stage on his now scorched and scarred pipes. The boys regaled their experiences of their adventures of their world record breaking unsupported row across the Pacific in 139 days, from South America to Australia. The expedition raised over a million pounds for the charity’s primary delivery partner Feedback Madagascar, to enable an intrinsically better life for tens of thousands of people. 

I know only too well of the many astonishing, anxious and extraordinary moments during the journey which the boys, in turn, relayed to the audience. I’ve always explained to speakers that you can hear a pin drop in the magnificent ballroom at Blair Castle when over 200 guests, warmed by drams and great company, stop to listen. The zeal for the MacLean clan in their glory of hair, kilts and humility was evident as the room rose to its feet, only the fourth standing ovation (Ronald Reagan, Brigadier David Allfrey OBE and Dame Katherine Grainger DBE) in 40 years.

The following morning Lachlan was already up with the sparrows and en route to Madagascar. Ewan reflected: ‘It was truly an honour to take to the stage after being made Honorary keepers, and particularly special to arrive with Dad in our matching kilts. The magnificent ballroom at Blair Castle couldn’t be more perfect to host the industry in such style and I don’t think the three of us could have imagined such an engaged audience and humbling reaction to our tales from the sea. If we didn’t already feel it buckets: we feel so warmly welcomed into the fold, and can’t thank the Keepers enough.’

During their time at sea Ewan, Jamie and Lachlan recorded a ship’s log which was posted daily. Often with trepidation, sometimes elation, it was the first email I’d read every morning during their time at sea and it would shape my day. Charlie would summarise the week in the Captain’s Catch. Unsurprisingly, the brothers follow in their fathers footsteps and have an innate storytelling ability. On the morning of the banquet they submitted the final draft of their first book to the Canongate publishers. 

Jamie said: ‘It all feels like a bit of a dream. Four and a half months at sea with only my two brothers for company. We witnessed unforgettable sunrises and sunsets. We dodged cyclones, weaved amongst the South Pacific islands, and sung under starlit skies. This book gives us the time and space to reflect upon this life changing experience and share some of what we have learnt along the way.’

My father came to the banquet in 2017 when I was inducted and said it was one of the proudest days of his life. I’m sure this will be one of Charlie’s.

The MacLean Foundation

To date, the Foundation has released four single cask bottlings as the result of generous donations from Ardamurchan, Glen Scotia, Raasay and Auchroisk.  All the profits from these bottlings go towards charitable purposes, and every bottle sold will give at least one person clean water for life. 

The book ‘Three Brothers in a Boat’ will be published on 24th September and is available to pre-order.

https://www.themacleanbrothers.com

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Ask a busy person

It is one of my favourite adages and in my twenty-five years in the Scotch whisky industry, one that I’ve witnessed many times. Two busy people spring to mind – Justine Hazlehurst and Karen Somerville, co-directors of the annual Fife Whisky Festival. They are good friends, we have been on many a whisky adventure, and lived to tell the tale.

I first met Karen at the Aberlour Hotel in 2014, where she was attending my whisky tasting as part of the Spirit of Speyside Whisky Festival programme. Karen and her late father, Tom Young MBE, established The Angels’ Share, producing beautifully crafted glassware; now she runs her own consultancy. 

‘Every year, the festival builds on what came before. We are so delighted with our loyal following and also being able to showcase Scotch Whisky in all its glory, especially in the Kingdom of Fife.’

Justine is the founder of the tasting and events company Kask Whisky. I’d enjoyed one of Justine’s walking tours of Leith and signed up my parents – my father wasn’t terribly enthusiastic about walking and history. He’d misheard and visibly brightened when he discovered history was in fact whisky.

Justine reflected ‘This year’s Fife Whisky Festival proved to be another huge success. The support shown by whisky enthusiasts from both near and far – not only for the Fife distilleries and independent bottlers but also for those outwith the Kingdom – seems to strengthen year on year. The wonderful whisky community make this festival so special.’ 

It was my first time attending the festival as a volunteer, one of the merry band donning brightly coloured aprons (woolly bonnet optional), and helping to make the event run smoothly. In return, we volunteers were well looked after with the infamous toffee doughnuts from Fisher and Donaldson. These are a thing. 

During the breaks of volunteering duties, I took time to speak to some other busy people. Fellow whisky adventurer Nicola Young established The Spur Whisky Club in Cumbernauld. In her spare time, she has her own business creating and developing websites for technophobes like myself, is an ambassador for The Scotch Malt Whisky Society and one half of the Whisky Boys with her father. The Spur runs monthly tastings where ardent whisky lovers congregate and welcome a variety of speakers. 

Behind the shop stand where the festival bottling, and merch was being sold, I spoke to Claire Irvine, who had the same idea and was with the Crieff Whisky Collective. The genesis of the club was that there wasn’t one locally, so she brought like-minded whisky enthusiasts together. I was reunited with Graham, Steven and John of BAWS (Boness Whisky Appreciation Society), who hatched a plan along similar lines in a pub following a tasting in Linlithgow. I’ve met them many times at similar events, but the Fife Festival is their favourite. Graham explained ‘This outweighs the other shows because it’s so friendly. There is plenty of time to speak to the distillers and stand holders.’

Emma Walker, Master Blender for Johnnie Walker was the speaker at the festival opening dinner hosted at Lindores Abbey Distillery on Friday, and attended the show before flying to the US on Sunday. Another busy person. Emma explained that she would be introducing Black Cask, the newest member of the Johnnie Walker family, which reminded her of toasted marshmallows. 

I tracked down Charlie MacLean at the Daftmill stand, where festival goers were appreciating not only the spirit but Hazel’s legendary tablet and fruitcake. I called it the win-win table.

The expression “It taks a lang spoon to sup with a Fifer” couldn’t be further from the truth, Charlie told me. ‘The suggestion that Fifers are hard to get to know is rubbish. The show is like a close-knit family party.’ 

Whisky, doughnuts, fruit cake and friendship. I know what made Fife tick on Saturday. 

Justine Hazlehurst

In addition to writing Opening The Case: The Affairs of Pattisons’ Whisky, Justine is the founder of Kask Whisky – a tasting events and tour company. Her passion and enthusiasm for whisky has led to her being selected as a judge for a number of whisky awards, including the World Whiskies Awards and Icons of Whisky Awards as well as a number of tasting panels.

Her knowledge of Scotch whisky history has led her to work with a number of distilleries, organisations and publications delving into the heritage of brands.

Justine’s written work has been published in Unfiltered, The Keeper, Whisky Magazine and The Malt Whisky Yearbook.

Karen Somerville 

Karen has a passion for business, whisky and Scotland, from running a successful manufacturing whisky glass company to now offering business consultancy and mentoring. She has many years of championing women in business and using her experience to help others grow and succeed.

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It was an early start, cold and dark, and a good coffee was required to kick-start the day. As I was heading to Loch Lomond for the day, I’d imagined taking in the palette of winter hues. The crisp light on the loch, shades of silver blue, dusty heather and bright russet in the winter sunlight. This was vaguely present, but the overall colours were grey. Any hint of colour dissipated when I arrived at the Loch Lomond distillery. I had done my essential map reading, as my navigational skills are very poor, as well as some homework, so I knew what to expect. No pretty whitewashed walls or pagoda roofs. This was a monster. 

What I didn’t appreciate was the sheer scale of the operation, which is industrial in appearance and encompasses, rather bizarrely, a woollen mill which is squashed up beside a boundary wall. Despite the austere appearance, we were welcomed into a warm tasting room by Gary Mills. More coffee was required for my fellow adventurers, Karen Somerville, Nicola Young and Karen Walker.  Collectively, we twitter like chattering birds, finishing each other’s sentences in the tumble to catch up, swooping on the glasses of new make, donning high viz jackets with ‘do you have this in my colour?’ Not a blink or an eye roll from Gary. 

Loch Lomond was created by the late Sandy Bulloch, who was visionary in his plan for the distillery. I think it’s fair to say that he was a self-sufficient type of fellow with a progressive mind. His mantra was to create a variety of aroma and flavour from distillation rather than maturation, which he manifested in his extraordinary array of stills.

The distillery was opened as part of the expansion to Littlemill in 1966. In 1990, the second pair of straight-neck pot stills was installed, with the grain distillery opening four years later. In 1998, a pair of traditional swan neck stills were added. In 2007, a single grain Coffey still was added. The site can produce 25 million litres of spirit annually. 

Once the discussion over high viz jackets was resolved, we started out to the distillery. 

Fermentation lasts for 92 hours, sometimes longer, to create a super fruity wash jumping with esters. This is the building block for the Loch Lomond style, which runs through the various distillations. Four different yeasts, including Champagne and Chardonnay strains are used. 

So, we proceed to the still house. If you don’t like heights, please don’t come to this distillery. 

It reads like the 12 days of Christmas. 

Three pairs of of straight neck pot stills
One pair of traditional swan neck pot stills
One continuous Coffey ‘malt’ still
Two pairs of continuous Coffey grain stills 
And a partridge in a pear tree

If this myriad of information isn’t already baffling the adventurers, then Gary baffles us more. 

The straight neck pot stills have plates inside the neck that allow a variety of styles of spirit to be distilled from a light, floral Lowland-esque to a heavier spirit. The stillman will also use different cut points to allow the creation of five distinctly different spirit styles.

The copper column Coffey style still, 100% malted Scottish barley is used to produce their single grain spirit, which runs from the still between 80 and 85% ABV. The peated barley from the North East allows them to produce the world’s only peated single grain spirit.  

As we head to a neighbouring building we pass an outdoor shower which would be perfect on Portobello promenade for the swimmers. Naturally the adventures like this. The two pairs of continuous stills are tightly squeezed into an improbable space. I don’t think many visitors get to see this as it is distinctly functional. The stills have a capacity for 20 million litres of spirit (90% wheat and 10% malted barley) 

I get the feeling Gary has kept a wee something up his high viz sleeve, and as we move to the cooperage, this becomes evident very quickly. Loch Lomond is one of four distilleries in Scotland to have a cooperage which manages 20,000 barrels a year with eight coopers and one apprentice who are heading off for their lunch, leaving one behind. The cooperage was one of the first to install a rejuvenation programme (every canny Sandy again), and we are lucky to have Gerry on hand to demonstrate. Cue much excitement, jostling for the best position, juggling of phones in cold hands and finally a hefty spray of water. The show is over and we gratefully return to the warmth of the tasting room where the glasses glisten with new make. 

As we nose and taste it becomes evident that Loch Lomond isn’t just a massive factory producing a lot of spirit. The glasses yield delicate differences of styles all with the trademark luscious fruitbowl and a glove box of boiled sweeties.  

Gary’s patience throughout the visit stretched like a giant elastic band, rather like the ones the posties drop (incidentally, approximately 250 million rubber bands each year). He had herded four cats safely through the site, navigating all our questions without one internal roll of the eyes. This quietly unassuming brand is one to watch if you haven’t already noticed it. 

Thanks to Gary Mills, Global Brand Ambassador, and the team at Loch Lomond distillery and Luss. 

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It’s exactly twenty-five years ago that my odyssey into Scotch whisky began. I cautiously stepped through the doors of The Vaults in Leith, home to the Scotch Malt Whisky Society. Another world unfolded: the muted pop of a cork being pulled, the tickling glug of the spirit pouring into the glass, the amber glow of spirit glinting in the firelight. My sensory journey had begun. My years at the Society, then The Glenmorangie Company, allowed me to share this passion. 

As some of you will know, I left my post as Director of Keepers of the Quaich in June last year, completing ten years at the helm. In 2013, at the same time as I was establishing my own consultancy, The Whisky Belle, I was approached about the role with Keepers. I’d never been to a banquet, and therefore knew little about the society, which didn’t bode well during my first interview a year later. In the interim, my consultancy thrived despite having no business plan and fortunately, creative offers came my way, allowing me to talk, taste and write about Scotch whisky. And food – always food. 

Thankfully, the stars aligned, and in May 2015, the role of Director was mine. I hung up my Whisky Belle cloak, and the hard work began. Tracy Wason (nee Ewart) and I had worked together at The Glenmorangie Company, and as Executive Assistant, we established a humble office on the outskirts of Edinburgh. The men’s locker room in an old golf club house made the ideal location, and shortly after we received the keys, the boxes from the previous office began to arrive. A lot of boxes. 

The following ten years were a rollercoaster and a joy ride. 

Two banquets a year took much of our time, but during the ‘quiet times’, we set about a rebrand of the society. We created a website which was recently updated, along with developing a social media presence. During lockdown, when three banquets were lost, we produced online events, including a contribution from Honorary Keeper HRH The Duke of Rothesay, as well as a society dinner hosted by His Royal Highness at Dumfries House. I edited The Keeper magazine, introduced the annual exclusive single cask bottlings, five additional International Chapters and new merchandise with trusted partners, Hamilton and Inches, Kinloch Anderson and The Harris Tweed Authority. The pleasure of seeing the delighted faces (and a few tears) of newly inducted Keepers will always stay with me. 

Last year I hosted a handful of events, including a special birthday celebration outside Pitlochry, ‘My life in whisky’ at The Spur Whisky Club and a private party from the US staying at Manderston. Plans were afoot. The first few days of 2026 were spent in Islay with the first snowfall I’ve encountered on my many visits to the island and a very icy swim. 

I’m delighted to bring my consultancy back to life, refreshed, revived and raring to go. My mission is to ignite and engage the sensory toolkit you carry around every minute of the day. Our sense of sight, smell, taste and touch are what guide us through each experience. 

Your imagination is the final piece of the jigsaw. Let the adventure begin. 

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