The Orel Nagas 1871 Rare Barrels is not just a bottle of wine, but also a symbol of luxury, authority and the pinnacle of distillation art.

Orel Whisky, a masterful blend meticulously crafted from the finest barrels of both seasoned and youthful Single Malt whiskies hailing from the legendary Inchgower Distillery in Scotland's Speyside region – a true whiskey haven.

I have been writing for Dramface for about a year and a half, and each time I finish a piece I glance at our scoring system to be sure that my thoughts are in line with the score I place on the review. I have only given one 9/10 (the pricey but magnificent Bunnahabhain I purchased at the distillery), and until today the lowest score I have given is a 4/10 for a handful of bottles.

I only drink two types of alcoholic drinks on a regular basis; beer and whisky. I may have the occasional rum, or a glass of wine at a function where it is provided gratis, but generally speaking I stick to my two favourites when it comes to alcohol. Some people have a desire to explore a vast array of alcoholic beverages, but whisky is so vast I feel like I have still barely scratched the surface, so it’s the lane I am happy to stay in for now.

Falling in and out of love with someone or something can be tough, whisky or otherwise. There’s a certain romance about remembering loves long past, whether people, objects, activities, and any other manner of things eliciting an emotive response.

Coming home from last year’s Fife Whisky Festival the cabbie asked what I’d been up to, for me to need collected from Ladybank train station at 11pm on a Saturday. When I mentioned it was whisky, his first response was to say he enjoys Old Pulteney. “Oh aye, I fair enjoy an Auld Pool-tenny, so I do.”

No matter how positive, how honest, how sincere the content we put online, there will always be someone poised to dampen the parade and passionately inform you that they disagree. And that’s fine.

I’ve come up with a new idea for a novel.

Looking through salty west coast windows at the astonishingly beautiful sunset, casting its rich amber glow across the craggy, lumpy landscape and registering that it’s almost 6:05pm, brings with it a sense of relief so palpable that we recognise we’ve both been harbouring some feelings.

Whisky, as we all know and understand, is subjective. As someone who spends their time waxing lyrical about what I’m finding in any given whisky, it’s important for me to approach the final bit - the serious question of if it’s any good or not - with the gravity of influence at the very core.

Sometimes, there’s so much choice that it can start to feel a little overwhelming.

Talk fondly enough about something, for prolonged periods of time, and soon that thing will become tiresome for those on the receiving end of it.

We sat on the weathered bench with the sun on our faces, and drank it all in.

As I was browsing through Dramface one day, I came across a Fergus review where he likened his passion for music to his passion for whisky, I thought maybe I’d share my own take on the duo of passions and, at the end of it, I hope to provide a review of a whisky that reminded me of a particular song. I know that Ainsley provides a music pairing along with each review, but this is not quite like that.

Glengyle distillery exists out of pure belligerence. The product of confrontation, of protest, of defiance.

One of the many facets of my whisky journey so far is that the further I travel along this road, the more I realise how much I truly don’t know.

I recently received some rather sad news that I feel I need to share with you all. Although you needn’t worry; no one’s in the hospital.

Once in a while, when hosting a tasting with friends, I’ll slip something into the lineup to mess with people’s heads. Something that seemingly shouldn’t be there; an alcoholic oddity.

A little over a year ago, I found myself in Paris. My mind wasn’t really on whisky.

Whisky comes in many fine forms. Influencing the end product via still cuts, barley varieties and indeed geographical regions, all can have a huge impact on flavour, profile and enjoyability.

When it comes to whisky, most of us have been through a certain tug of war with our significant others, particularly when it involves the accumulation of whisky; especially when they don’t drink whisky, or simply not as emphatically as we do.

At the beginning of July, I contracted what I’ll refer to as a variant of the black plague.

It's not breaking news that, over the past ten to fifteen years, Scotch whisky (as well other whisky categories) has seen huge growth in new distilleries and whisky makers.

Comparing and contrasting whiskies side-by-side is a nice tool in an appreciator’s toolkit. Some whiskies, when sipped separately, can feel like the same whisky. Only when you try them side-by-side do the intricacies show themselves and, once you’ve tasted them, those differences can never be “untasted”.