Day 4: Glasgow/Jura - road to nowhere

I am sitting outside of the only hotel on the Isle of Jura. To my left, the distillery and a scattering of houses. In front, a swathe of sea.  There might be a local shop hereabouts but I wouldn't bet good money on it, we are about as remote as it gets.

We primarily came to visit the distillery and, indeed, I am not sure what else would attract tourists to this tiny, beautiful, peaceful little corner of the Hebrides. Jura whisky is a thing of beauty - far lighter than is common in island single malts (which, we learned today, is because they have the second tallest stills in all of Scotland). But getting here is a labour of love, requiring a trip on the tiniest car ferry you ever did see (if you're fifth in the queue, you're waiting for the next one).

Food thus far today has been sporadic and uninspiring - a drab bacon roll on the ferry from Kennacraig to Islay and a Magnum (when did they get so sickly?) waiting for the crossing to Jura. I couldn't leave this post, therefore, without mentioning last night's dinner at Glasgow's Bread Meats Bread - a dirty burger joint par excellence. My pastrami melt was stunningly good and D did a lot of fervent nodding when asked about his burger.

We also ordered a side of poutine, out of 50% curiosity and 50% greed. If you've not come across this Canadian delicacy before, it consists of chips, a thick, meaty gravy and squeaky cheese curds. It is a rather odd thing - not in the least unpleasant but one of those food combinations that makes you wonder how anyone thought to invent such a thing.

We suspect that you have to be born Canadian to truly appreciate it.