poem by Jessie Watson from Kirkmuirhill

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Glenfiddichs Box

This box is tall and round like a cylinder. Hard and unbending not a bit like the soft smooth nectar it conceals.   

You smell the old distilleries and the wood that holds the spirit and feel the strength of all the workers who made this.

It brings back memories of a loved one gone above and helps me in my memories of all the times gone by.   

My husband was a whisky drinker and loved it's taste and smell, it brings back many memories, this lovely amber smell.

The sound it gives me is of all the highland ways as scotch is scotch and full of saltires swaying in the breeze above the castles tops.   

I watch the saltires swirling above the turrets on Tillitudilum castle and think of all the good times that must have been shared all those years ago.

It is a desire to be happy and find a nook and crannie a wee But and Ben or bothy where people can find all they dream about.   

It makes me think of Scotland and all that that entails the mountains, valleys, lochs and heather the full highland scene.

I would like to go and take this box back to where it first came from to see where it was blended and how that this was done the pure scotch water and the rye that go to make this possible and to see how all this was achieved.

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