Our Skyvan went AOG in Glasgow. We pax had an unscheduled night stop in a Hotel in Port Ellen where I experienced the unedifying experience of being propositioned in the urinals by an inebriated local. There was a wonderful fug in the crowded bar and yes Chevvron the Malt was flowing freely. I spied the gentleman from whom I had recently fled sitting atop a very tall wooden bar stool, wearing a tam-o-shanter, fag hanging from his lips clasping a full glass of whisky and swaying backwards and forwards with increasing velocity. Inevitably he lent too far back and encountering a deep stall the whole shooting match crashed to the floor without a drop of malt being spilled nor the fag leaving his lips. And there he lay semi conscious, clasping his glass, prone on his back ignored by all around him. I rather dreaded coming down for breakfast but thank God he was, by then, not to be found.