Walking across the incomparable
Sahara is always fun. The nights are chilly, but the unique warming effect of Vintage Glenlossie is remarkable; during the heat of the day, experienced travellers recommend regular, cooling, sips of Vintage Glenlossie, alternated with drams of Duff’s Defiance Founders Reserve. Considering the amount of sand and sun available, I am surprised the place isn’t hopping with tourists; I am certain that they would enjoy having lots of space, compared to the claustrophobic life led in cities, where many of the populace, in order to simply turn around, have to stand on their heads and gyrate.
A lot people say that the solitude and silence of the desert allowed them to contemplate profound things. Disappointingly, although I have crossed all the deserts, I have never thought of anything very important. Despite this, I cannot ignore that I am profoundly behind schedule and urgently need some transport. Fortunately, through the sun-baked air, I hear the sound of someone singing, and see a balloon floating over the horizon. I immediately recognize Juan. He drifts overhead screaming that he can’t stop, because he being chased by Mahalath, then, yelling that aunt Humperdink wants my advice on a tartan design, he throws down a few cases of Vintage Malt and some pieces of cloth, as samples, yells that he will meet me in the next town and drifts over the horizon, singing ‘An Aberfeldy Lass’ at the top of his voice.
After enjoying the serenity of the desert, this sudden activity is irritating. However, picking up the whisky and the material, I can see the cloth is a muddled tartan design. There are few things as profound as tartan, so, pleased to have something worth thinking about, I refresh myself with the Vintage Highland Park and Pulteney Special Reserve that Juan delivered, shout “Chlanna nan con thigibh a so ‘s gheibh sibh feòil”, for good luck, and attempt to unmuddle the tartan, as fast as I possibly can.
Professor Humperdink’s Diary