McTavish of the Glen - Chapter 1

It all started about 16 years ago when I first met Laphproaig McTavish sitting alone at Renoir on Soi 33.

Laph (as he likes to called by his friends) first arrived at Bangkok International airport in 1990. He was dressed ready for all situations, as always. Neatly creased "Dickies" knee length khaki shorts, belted at the waist by his father's old leather belt. Very proudly booted up with a set of new 'Hunter Loch Ranza's', if only his peers could see him now he thought.

Even though his family made discouraging remarks about have pudding for brains in buying such expensive footwear. He stuck to his decision (unlike many other times) casting aside his uncle's offer of Wellington boots, slightly used at a bargain price.

The shorts and the boots matched up perfectly with the collection of red and blue flannel checked shirts, hence he was prepared for all occasions.

Laph was always prepared, just like the scouts. He sported a back pack he acquired from his grandfather, entirely made from saddle leather, well worn and scuffed, giving the appearance of a well season traveller, even though this was his first trip abroad, and again receiving disparaging pudding brain remarks from the family about travelling so far away in the lands of strange people.

He had been through this argument about travelling, with the entire family, after just graduating from university as a Quantity Surveyor. His Aunty Mary commented that, "there will be nae good come of it, mark my words!" His girl friend since school, Agnes Mc Whirter, a large freckled girl with red hair, who his brother said had been hit with the ugly stick, would not stop sobbing and sniffling. She had filled two of his hankies from his back pack at the airport and he only had 3 left for the trip! He hoped there would not be a delay in boarding as he would have to offer up another hankie; at least it would stop her wiping her nose on her jumper sleeve he thought. Any way those thoughts were thousands of miles behind him now.

In the pack he had neatly packed his Lonely Planet Book, Mac Donald's guide to hiking, bottles of Scottish tap water, toilet paper, Kaomagma (for upset stomach and the trots), several "Uncle Toby's" rolled oats bars and a brown bread, boiled mutton, and pickle sandwich made by his mother. As he was told, "you nought to be trusting that Asian muck on the Thai Airways flight." As it was he never ate at all and was still feeling queasy after the flight, thinking he might take a spoon full of Kaomagma before approaching customs.

At customs the neatly uniformed woman ask what was the purpose of his visit to Thailand. Laph proudly readjusted his back pack and explained that he would be traversing the slopes of the local mountains of Bangkok and fly fishing the Chao Praya river. The customs girl stared blankly at him and conversed with her colleague and stifling a giggle. Laph, always observant, picked up something about "falang bar bar bore." He extracted his spirex note book from his top pocket and jotted it down; this might be a referral to a local hiking site.

Laph eventually made it through customs and down to baggage, virtually event free, other than the small tumble at the bottom of the escalator spilling the contents of his back pack over his head and on to the floor. Usually sure footed is our Laph, but a Thai girl was at the bottom of the escalator and took Lap by complete surprise, never had he seen such beauty.

Making it out to the arrivals hall he was absolutely flabbergasted, there herds of these beautiful girls. Even the thick heat of Bangkok did not bother him he was in a world of his own. Unfortunately this would be the demise of poor ole Laph.

Until the next exciting chapter of ... Mc Tavish of the Glen.

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