In my glass, and in my imagination, I’m back over to the Isle of Jura; it’s getting dark and a blast of icy wind howls across the landscape.
Like I say, I’m only imagining it, and with a dram of Jura 1976 ‘Feith A’ Chaorainn’ I can’t imagine even the worst that Mother Nature can throw at me would be even slightly annoying.
So, what’s it like being wrapped up in in this snug, straw-yellow Jura blanket?