Ex scrinio Marcus Crapularius, scriptor de aqua vitae . . .
Health and wealth to you my friends. Here at Roma Aeterna, we have been blessed by the gods and have had both in abundance. Alas, the bottles sometimes run dry, and I have to flog the servants to allay my thirst. Those mysterious Caledonians make a sublime single malt called STRATHISLA, a tongue twister even to native speakers of their barbarous tongue. It hails from a village in Banffshire called Keith, that straddles a stream called the Isla. (Those Gaelic fellows don't say the 's' for some reason, the brutes.) Most of the spirit made there is blended as CHIVAS REGAL, which at least has an honorable Roman sound about it. Tracking down this green-bottled goodness is a major household undertaking, and I would normally wax poetically about your need to track some down as well. But, surely you understand, the more you gobble up the less there will be for the larders here at Roma Aeterna! These Caledonians are beholden to a band of Gallic Provincials called Pernod Ricard, who I gather have many spirits in their stables. I, Marcus Hibernicus Crapulariaus, solemnly pledge that I will seek out these elusive "whiskies" as they are called, and report back soon! Meanwhile, I shall bemoan the loss of the magnificent Strathisla, and satiate myself instead on those wicked liquors from Kentucky, far across the Mare Atlanticum.
prid. Id. Aug.
(Beware the Ides of Augustus! Tomorrow!)
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