Back in the cottages, I attempted to phone my Dad. Why "attempted" you may ask? Telecommunications in Islay have clearly still to advance to modern day standards since, unless you stand, lie or sit in a particular position in a room, you will not obtain a phone signal. I was lying on my side on top of the bed when, lo and behold, I got a signal. Taking advantage, I stayed in position (leaning to the left on my elbow facing away from the window) and gave my Dad a call to discuss my afternoon. He asked what book I had purchased. The answer was impossible to convey because said book was located on the floor behind me and to turn and retrieve it would have seen the signal disappear and the conversation end. He would have to stay in suspense until Monday night. Such is life! For the record, it was The Secret Library: A Book Lover's Journey Through Curiosities of History. At the time of writing I've still to start it because I'm working my way through Gulliver's Travels.
A beautiful, hearty 3 course dinner, as well as some refreshments, was consumed by all at the Lochside with the backdrop of a glorious sea view. I shared a table with Russell, John McBride, his wife Dot, and Geo Ferguson (Frances' husband). Russell declared to all concerned to be dining at the champion's table. He had fairly been buttering me up since I took possession of that gallon of whisky! At around 9.30pm, a walk round the corner and part of the way up the hill (I did say everything was a short walk) took us to Bowmore Village Hall for the post race ceilidh. Apparently this is the one gig of the year for the band who play on this occasion. They certainly make the most of it because they gave it laldy for the best part of 3 and a half hours. Referring back to Local Hero, without spoiling the film for those who haven't seen it, a ceilidh takes place at one point. This one was an exact replica. I genuinely felt like I was in the film.