DIVES AND LAZARUS (16/11/2024)
As it fell out upon one day,
Rich Diverus he gave a feast.
And invited all his friends,
And gentry of the best.
As it fell out upon one day,
Poor Lazarus he was so poor.
He came and laid him down and down,
Even down by Diverus door.
Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
Even down at Diverus' gate.
"Some meat, some drink brother Diverus,"
"for Jesus Christ, his sake."
"Thou art none of mine brother Lazarus,"
"that lies begging at my gate."
"No meat, no drink will I give thee,"
"For Jesus Christ, his sake."
Then Diverus sent his hungry dogs,
to bite him as he lay.
They hadn't the power to bite one bite,
But licked his sores away.
Then Diverus sent out his merry men,
to worry him away.
They hadn't the power to strike one stroke,
But threw their whips away.
As it fell out upon one day,
Poor Lazarus he sickened and died.
There came two angels out of Heaven,
His soul therein to guide.
Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus,
And come along with me.
For you the place prepared in Heaven,
For to sit upon and angel's knee.
As it fell out upon one day,
Rich Diverus he sickened and died.
There came two serpents out of hell,
His soul therein to guide.
Rise up, rise up, brother Diverus,
And come along with me.
There is a place prepared in hell,
For to sit upon and serpents's knee.
HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTHDAY (14/11/2024)
On behalf of the Pickwickian Society, I would like to extend my happiest of birthdays to His Majesty King Charles III. Long may He reign.
Mr. Adam J. Brierley
CAMPBELTOWN WHISKY (14/11/2024)
On the eastern flank of the loyal 'Kintyre Peninsula' in the United Kingdom, shaded from the gales of the Atlantic by a long strut of land, lies Campbeltown, the 'pirate's cove' of Scotland.
Once home to over thirty whisky distilleries, Campbeltown is one of the great hidden nooks of these Sceptred Isles, and its heritage seems to hang in the briny air...
To reach Campbeltown, you travel by coach along the western side of the peninsula, following a winding road by the sea. Seemingly, you are on the edge of the known world. Depending on the weather, waves ripple and gently
break against the rocks. As you look out across the empty sea, and against the prison wall of the cliffs to your left,
one can easily imagine a young Scot of yore, looking out to the West, dreaming of his prospects in the 'New World'. An Andrew Carnegie, hoping for exodus from British rigidity and tyranny.
And on your left as the coach grumbles up and down, rocky outcrops jutt from rugged tufts of vivacious greens, which sprawl forth in richness. Sheep chew away in the sea-mist ridden air. The salt, it seems, enriches the soil. And a tidy mess of farms and cottages and crumbling stone walls climb over the hills. It's verdant land carries the
character of Ireland (indeed we are near as close as one can possibly get to Ireland whilst on the mainland).
For whisky lovers, Campbeltown remains a treasure trove. Visit Springbank distillery, visit Cadenheads. Drink a Kilkerran 12 year old. You will taste the brine of the seaside town
in the whisky, you'll taste the must of the old warehouses, you'll taste the distinctly Campbeltown peat, which is briny like seaweed. And you'll be immediately transported to the deck of some rugged fishing vessel
of old. And when your distillery tour guide opens the washtun, you'll smell a pungent fruit like nothing you've smelt before, like rich and condensed apples; and the smell
will never leave you. And everytime you taste the whisky from then onwards, you'll taste that salty sensation and the sweetness will remind you of the washtun.
Maybe you'll chat to a local barman who, tucked away in the middle of nowhere, holds his Scottish character unscathed. I heard it said that to become a local you must have lived
in Campbeltown for at least three generations!!
And maybe the sun will emerge, and suddenly the place will have the character of some Caribbean island. Suddenly, one can vividly imagine the illegal whisky smuggling to
the New World.
And if you walk along the sea front, you'll see it is adorned with Allied flags. You'll see, tucked away in this random town in the middle of nowhere, on the outermost
edge of our island, memory remains pure and untainted as if it had been distilled.
You'll see war memorials, alive and potent as if it were yesterday.
And along the main street, Union Jacks hang peacefully and naturally, and the rugged and rolling hills rise in the background!!