Thursday, 24 February 2011
Ruined buildings on Islay
At the risk of sounding like an old codger, I remember when at least part of the building was a working smiddy, run by an elderly gentleman called John. It was a remarkable throwback of a place, with a dark, slightly forbidding interior, piled high with generations of iron and steel. John was very good to us. He made the grate for the strange-shaped fire in the Port Charlotte Hotel, and also built us a spit on which we impaled a pig - roasting it whole over half an oil drum full of charcoal. That pig fed around 250 folk the day the hotel opened. I think I have a photo somewhere, but those days things were strictly analogue, and being an old codger I can't remember where anything is...