ARNOLD’S AMBITION
By William Appleby
Ever since he went on the office coach trip to Scotland he
longed to make a whisky still. Not that he was a whisky drinker but more the
desire to make something that worked, something that, in his imagination, had a
life of its own.
He read numerous books about whisky and searched antique
shops for a still. In his local watering hole, he became a bore with his talk
about whisky and its manufacture.
Difficult to know if his latest trip to the council dump was
guided by some hidden force or just an accident, but whatever it was, he found
an old metal still. It was too large for his car or trailer so he hired a
pick-up and bullied two friends to help him.
A month of so later, he had a working still heated by gas
cylinders set up in his timber-framed garage.
His ingredients were ripe barley, yeast, and spring water plus heat. He
went to bed a happy man, his wife relieved that he achieved something though
what it was she was not sure.
It was one in the morning when it happened. A tremendous
noise, a fountain of boiling liquid and a garage on fire. The bedroom window
which faced the blast scattered broken glass onto the bed and floor.
His dream of crates of whisky shattered as well.
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