Istanbul, Constantinople, Istanbul, Constantinople...

What can be said about the fabulous city of old Istanbul that has not been said before? When I think of something, I'll tell you, but meanwhile I am escaping a travel program on the radio about it, simply to go into the other room and write this.

Remember how I often bang on about how I hate book reviews so much that I refuse to read them? Well, I am just about to write one. Actually, it's not so much a review, more like a very long-winded version of "Did you read that book by so-and-so? Good, isn't it?"

My latest recent trip to Bremerhaven (oh no... he's not going to rant on about bloody Bremerhaven again is he?) ... no wait, listen a minute, will you.... my latest recent trip to Bremerhaven, involved a lot of hanging around - a LOT of hanging around - just waiting.

Thomas has about 5 books on his shelves that are written in English, and four of them are about classic, British automobiles. Then I found a copy of 'Raw Spirit - in search of the perfect dram' by Iain Banks.

I had read 'The Wasp Factory' by him some years ago, and although I found it well-written and entertaining, it didn't grab me very much. I also did not enjoy some of the imagery very much either - like dogs being set alight by disturbed children, picturesquely running over Scottish hillsides, leaving a trail of smoke in their wake. I came to believe that Banks must have had a very disturbed childhood, but this is refuted by his grey-haired old mother in 'Raw Spirit', when she tells a fan at a book signing of her son's, "Och, no. Iain was a very happy wee lad."

Banks also writes what can be indistinctly described as 'science fiction', and when he does, uses the name Iain M Banks, so there is no confusion over genres.

'Raw Spirit' begins with a phone call from his agent, telling him that an American publisher wants to commission him to be driven around Scotland in a taxi, visiting all of the 100 + Whiskey distilleries there, sampling each and every one of them in an heroic attempt to find the best of the bunch. After he has ascertained that this is a genuine project, Banks cannily proposes he should do it, with the proviso that he drives his own vehicles (with help from friends when needed), thereby combining all three of his passions (writing, automobiles and whiskey) in one, well-paid job. Banks is a self-confessed petrol-head.

Word soon gets around about his dream commission, and every initial chapter of the book begins with a snippet of conversation between him and one of his mates, before the real task gets underway. The snippets are all in this vein:

"Hey, Banksie - I hear you're going to write a book on all the single malts of Scotland. Is it true?"

"Yes it's true. They have already given me the advance."

"So you'll be needing some help, then..."

The first stage of the journey is carried out in a lumbering Land-Rover, and the description of it's various qualities - both negative and positive - are hilarious enough to have made me laugh out loud - as I have with many other sections so far. Example: "Does the (very rigid, 2.5 tonne, TD5) Land Rover have crumple zones? Yes. Other cars".

I left Thomas's copy in Bremerhaven, half read, and when I got back to Blighty, I ordered a copy off the net. It arrived yesterday, and - remembering that I had marked the Bremerhaven copy with an old KLM ticket - I sent a text message to Thomas, asking him what page I was up to. The reply came back in a few moments: "Page 193, old fellow."

So this weekend I can carry on with it, and I'm really hoping for lots of bad weather that keeps me indoors as I do.

Have you read that whiskey book by Iain Banks? Good, isn't it?