One advertiser has been quoting a particular writer on whisky as saying that a return of up to 18 per cent a year was possible. At best this was a theoretical possibility, but it has been reproduced as an established fact; the original and often-quoted article was published five years ago.Another vendor purports to have a malt whisky called Grand Tully for sale, although the original Grand Tully distillery closed in 1910, and any stocks which survived would be rare indeed by now. Whatever the quality, there is always the question of trade marks and labels, which distilleries take very seriously indeed, and the distillery could sue for breach of its trade mark. At best you may end up drinking your whisky or giving it to friends, rather than getting your money back.Some of the methods used to market investment whiskies are also open to question. There are one or two which do, but there is no marketplace where named whiskies are bought and sold. Nor is there any guarantee that anyone will want to buy back any whisky you have invested in, and you will certainly have to pay storage charges and insurance on casks, which must be kept in a bonded warehouse.If you decide to bottle the whisky, you will first have to pay duty on it at the going rate, and even today that could add something like pounds 2,500 plus VAT to a 250-litre cask of whisky at the typical strength of 60 per cent alcohol.There could well be a problem finding a bottler, especially if you try to recoup your investment by bottling the whisky for sale under its brand name. The Scotch Whisky Association (SWA), which is mainly interested in arguing the whisky industry's case for lower taxes and more help to promote exports, has just taken the unprecedented step of putting out a circular on the subject of retail investing. The SWA makes it clear that it is not in the business of offering advice on whether whisky could prove a good investment.
But it does say the only certainty about owning a cask of scotch is that it will lose roughly 2 per cent of its contents each year through evaporation.It also points out that most blenders contract with distillers years ahead of time for the specific whiskies they will require for their blends, and that distillers often exchange whiskies for blending purposes, either by direct agreement or through long-established brokers.But most distilleries refuse outright to sell casks of their whisky to third parties. If you are tempted to take up one of the seductive offers being touted by some of those self-styled whisky brokers who usually peddle their wares by slipping promotional leaflets into your favourite magazine, you should consider all the implications. The prospect of buying a cask or two of malt whisky is an attractive one, whether you relish the prospect of reselling it for a massive profit when it has become rare and old, or quietly enjoying a cut-price glass or two of your very own malt supply while sitting by a roaring fire on a quiet winter evening in 2011. It has been described as a "wonderful display," but I should warn you that competitive cheese-making is not a recommended spectator sport. Even when the tension is at its height the cheeses merely squat impassively on their trestle tables awaiting the judge's verdict.
The winning cheese accepts its triumph modestly, and the runners-up show no signs of rancour. We could learn a lot about sportsmanship from these cheddars.It is real country entertainment, unlike some country fairs which have as much to do with agriculture as Marie Antoinette's ormolu milking stool. For the time being, city slickers and tourists are still classified as rare breeds, but with more visitors every year Frome must hang on to that precious sense of being a real place Once lost, you just can't fake it.. Butter, eggs, dogs, sheep, goats, bulls and horses all compete for prizes in a series of beauty pageants.
In the animal nursery tent there are young animals for children to stroke. Classic cars and even a town-crier for the deaf are provided to include as many people as possible in the fun.Despite the rival attractions, everyone will feel obliged to visit the cheese tent. Some people miss the sound of lorries slipping a gear while 40 calves are reversed down a one-in-eight incline, but most enjoy the peace and parking spaces.Today will be particularly quiet, though. Everyone will be at the Frome Cheese Show, which used to obstruct the crowded pavements with great heaps of cheese, but now spreads itself over 32 acres just outside the town.The idea of cheese spread over 32 acres will seem indigestible to most people but, as with pizza, the vacant areas are just an excuse for adding lots of other ingredients.
Wednesdays have been quieter since the departure of the weekly cattle market, which has been transplanted to open fields where it thrives and grows. Inside there are a handful of helpful ladies in smart uniforms preparing for the rush.If you choose to rush over to Frome today, you will find the town given over to pleasure, with carousels in the marketplace, and no market stalls in sight. The signs, however, are that the situation will not last: the local tourist office, which used to be housed in a hut, now occupies another of the town's 500 listed buildings - a converted wool-drying stove. While I was gazing up at this pungent building, which is now a NatWest bank, someone asked me if I was lost. Was I looking for the cashpoint? I explained that the lost expression on my face was the gawp of the tourist.