It was the kind of day where Mother Nature decides that colour is an optional extra. The road we drove along looked as if it was heading directly to the end of the world with no option to pass Go. The distillery had the look of a half-abandoned film set; brooding in a way that only granite can brood. You were surprised to find another human there, but there was a chap speaking in tongues about salt, sea and sherry casks. And then he would pass you a glass to sample. I am still not sure if it was a dream or not.