Degrees of Separation... how many?

Yesterday I met Doug who comes from Ontario, Canada and has come to Cusco to do the Inca Trail but can't because it's fully booked, so no more spaces, so he's off to do another trail, which involves mountain biking, river rafting and trekking all the way to Machu Picchu. I said that Doug was a good Scottish name and unsurprisingly he told me that his grandfather came from Arbroath and emigrated to Canada many years ago.

Doug and his mother or maybe he said his father, visited Scotland last year and spent some time in Arbroath, where he had a pint of real ale in his grandfather's local pub. He waxed lyrical about Arbroath Smokies, which is haddock smoked in a special fashion known only to a few, or maybe more than a few. It has a very strong taste that is just delicious with a plate of potatoes, but probably does untold damage to the blood pressure and other vital symptoms. So not to every ones taste I don't suppose but definitely worth trying.

It's not every day one has a chat about Arbroath and it's most famous product and to be doing so in faraway Cusco seems correct in some way. We had a chat about all the places he'd visited, including my own fine city of Edinburgh. He somehow managed to get a ticket for T in the Park, Scotland's second best music festival. How he managed it I didn't ask but he thought it was one of the best he'd been to, where everyone was stoned or drunk or both and the music was loud. It was a bit wet too, but no-one worries about these small difficulties in Scotland. He left me to go off to his bed as he had an early start for his trip to Machu Picchu the next day and would be his last night in a bed for a few days. Says he will look out for me to tell me how it all went.

This was meant to be a two story post about degrees of separation but I've run out of time. It's Saturday night and one must go out to play....