Today has the makings of being an interesting day. Because today is when the Jarlsberg home will be visited by filmmaking strangers (wearing masks, thank you) to shoot me for that semi-mysterious documentary I've mentioned here a few times.
By pure chance, today is ALSO the 30th anniversary of an event that is the core of the documentary - an event in which I played a major role. So I told the documentary folks that we could share a toast to the occasion (an old friend once told me "caring means sharing"), and I'll be damned if I'm pouring Inver House, "The Scotch The Clan MacGregor Scrapes Off Its Shoe," for people who've flown hundreds of miles for my convenience (and charming personality and propensity for making libelous remarks).
No, it seemed like a 30-year old Scotch was called for. And let me tell you, friends, Scotch that old gets expensive really fast. You can pick up a nice bottle of Glenfiddich for $900, a tasty Balvenie for $2000, or a lip-smacking Macallan Fine Oak 30 for a trifling $7,600.
Obviously, I didn't buy any of those things. Rather, I found the cheapest 30-year old Scotch within driving distance and, after watching an assessment on the Youtube "Half-Assed Scotch Review" channel that declared it really tasty, I bought a bottle to share with the documentarians.
At about $200, I guess it's a steal - though it's a bit painful to think about the fact that the same money could have kept me in Clan MacGregor for a year or more. Still, 30th anniversaries only come around so often, and if the cameras happen to be rolling I can look like a big spender.
Which would technically be a big media lie, but hardly the first one.