Scotland A dismal land where you can stew in your own rain-soaked moods Sometimes you just need to wallow. I brooded after she left, losing myself in the customary single malt (probably a smoky Caol Ila 12) and in what I recall as a smoldering half-blaze hissing in the fireplace -- at the Sheep Heid in Duddingston, maybe, where the bitter and wistful have been at this for nearly 700 years, or Edinburgh's Bow Bar, or one of hundreds of other dim pubs dotting Scotland's lonesome lands

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