My dearest Irish eyes:It was great to finally reach you by telephone today, after seven unsuccessful attempts from various phone booths in Scotland. Learning that you have been taking down the poker tables at Canterbury was especially sweet. This trip is a wee bit expensive and your serious winnings will be most appreciated.
I am seated in a pub surrounded by fine single malt Scotch whisky, my mates are throwing feathers at the dartboard behind me; they've already toasted my sweetie for being lucky and Irish today. I am truly the lucky one, of course, they are quick to point out.We took a day off from golfing to visit the Aberlour distillery in Craigellachie (rhymes with smart alecky, John "Little Stick" Shotz hints).
By following host and mentor Julian's instructions, we were soon sniffing the vanilla, the chocolate, the sweet apple flavors in the water of life that has been the mainstay of this area for centuries. Our brave leader has been taking these tours for years, says today's was the best he's experienced.
This afternoon I explored an old walking bridge over the Spey and as luck would have it a salmon fisherman was wading below, lashing his long fly rig over and over. He said he caught nothing, but I captured a camera full of fabulous photos framed by the arch of the auld bridge against the sheer cliff walls.
I talked with mothers pushing prams past some nursing lambs in a verdant meadow beside an abandoned railway right of way. I walked through three handmade stone tunnels to get there. We chatted, then I learned that one was an English mum, the other a native Californian transplanted by her homesick Scotch husband. 
Yesterday the gentlemen at the 250-year-old Fraserborough Golf club left us in stitches. Their club was being organized when we were throwing the British out of the colonies in 1776.
They claim to have invited Gen. George Armstrong Custer across to be the keynote speaker at their 100th anniversary club celebration, but George was a no-show.Talk turned to Highland clans.
"How would ye tell if a man be a real McDonald?", twinkled the ruddy-cheeked club member.We were stumped.
"Ye jist reach under 'is kilt and ye make sure he has a quarter pounder!"
We tee off at 11 a.m. tomorrow at Cruden Bay, one of the 50 top-ranked golf courses in the world. We've been playing all the best courses at reasonable cost because it's now off-season. The weather has been great though and there's more great weather tomorrow.
We'll be home on Friday. Can't wait to see my Irish Collee.
Remember your father singing, I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen?
Love, Stan
