The Whisky Collection

One bottle each year. A story in every vintage.

What started as a birth gift has become a ritual. One bottle each year, eventually to be passed on, opened together, or shared over a meaningful toast.

The fourth bottle arrived today.

A 28-year-old Highland single malt called Spirit of Brazil, bottled by Seven Sons through 8 Doors Distillery in John O’Groats.

Only 270 bottles exist. This one was distilled and placed into its cask in 1998, the last year Scotland played Brazil at a World Cup before meeting them again in 2026.

It now sits alongside the other three bottles in Teddy’s collection.

Looking at them together, it is strange to think the whole thing started during one of the most uncertain periods of our lives, with a suggestion from Morgan and two personalised bottles of Lark Single Malt.

The First Bottle: Lark Single Malt, 2023

Morgan suggested it, actually.

She thought we should mark the moment of Teddy’s birth with something special. A good bottle of Tasmanian whisky. One for Teddy and one for me.

It was a rough time. Teddy had arrived 11 weeks early. We were living day to day in the NICU, caught somewhere between hope and fear. We were not celebrating in the usual sense, but the idea of commemorating his arrival, of holding space for what was happening, felt right. Morgan is Tasmanian, so choosing Lark also gave the bottle a connection to her, and to a place that forms part of Teddy’s story.

Lark offered personalised bottles of its Classic Cask Single Malt, based on the original recipe developed by Bill Lark in 1992 (the year Morgan was born). So, I ordered two.

Teddys has his name on it, and, underneath, the words:

Luctor et emergo.

It is a Latin motto, Stoic in origin, meaning, “I struggle and emerge.”

These words feel made for him.

They speak to more than survival. They describe transformation through adversity. The idea that sometimes you must pass through hardship, rather than around it, and that you can emerge from it changed.

Stronger, perhaps. Certainly different.

Mine says:

Memorise the air.

It is a line from the song Weird Goodbyes by The National and Bon Iver.

I must have listened to that song thousands of times while Teddy was in hospital. It is about parenting, time, and the strange grief of watching your child grow older, even as you so desperately want them to grow.

That was exactly how I felt.

As hard as those days were, there was nowhere else I wanted to be than beside him, willing him towards strength and trying to take in every detail of a time I knew would eventually become difficult to remember clearly.

Part of the inspiration also came from Hamish Blake’s annual birthday cake tradition. Each year, the night before his children’s birthdays, he stays up making whatever elaborate cake they have requested, drinking Tasmanian Lark single malt.

He had reportedly laid down Lark whisky for his children too.

I loved the combination of it all: whisky, parenthood, ritual, and the act of making something the night before your child’s birthday.

The first bottle was never really intended to become a collection.

It was simply a way of saying: You were here. This happened. And we will remember it.

The Rabbit Hole

Then, in my true obsessive fashion, I went down a rabbit hole.

I came across the story of Pete Robson, a father in the United Kingdom who bought his son Matthew a bottle of The Macallan 18 every year from the time he was born in 1992.

By the time Matthew was 28, he had a complete collection of 28 bottles. His father had spent around £5,000 purchasing them over the years, and the collection was later valued at approximately £40,000. Matthew planned to use the money towards a house deposit.

I thought: That’s brilliant.

The investment side of it was interesting, of course. The idea that a relatively modest yearly purchase could one day become something genuinely useful appealed to me.

But it was the continuity that stayed with me.

One bottle every year.

A physical record of time passing.

Something kept carefully by a parent and eventually handed to a child.

So, I got serious about it.

I had already started the collection with the personalised 2023 Lark Single Malt, marking the year of Teddy’s birth, and a link to the Tasmanian connection.

Bottle one. Check.

The Second Bottle: The Macallan Double Cask 18, 2023 Release

For the next bottle, I set my sights on The Macallan Double Cask 18, specifically the 2023 release.

It felt like the right homage to the story that had transformed the original Lark gift into an annual collection.

The whisky itself had been matured for 18 years in a combination of American and European oak casks seasoned with sherry in Jerez. The American oak brings vanilla and sweetness, while the European oak contributes spice. The 2023 release carries notes of toffee, sweet ginger, sultanas, dried fruit and nutmeg.

There was only one problem.

I could not find it anywhere.

I searched across the Gold Coast and Brisbane. One shop had boxes of the 2022 release and told me they were unlikely to restock for years, because, as the person behind the counter put it, these bottles were not exactly flying off the shelves at that price.

I kept looking, without much luck.

Then, by chance, we travelled to Singapore for a work trip that doubled as a family holiday in November of 2024.

We visited Raffles, as you do, for the obligatory Singapore Sling. While we were there, I noticed The Macallan House boutique inside the hotel.

I went in and told them what I was doing.

I told them about the collection. About the bottle I was searching for. About Teddy’s early arrival and why the year 2023 mattered.

They smiled.

“We’ve only got two bottles of the 2023 left.”

Sold.

That became Teddy’s first birthday bottle.

It was found halfway across the world on a family trip, at one of the most recognisable hotels in the world, after I had nearly given up on locating it.

Two bottles in.

One for his birth.

One for year one.

The tradition was real.

The Third Bottle: Glencadam 25

By the third bottle, I knew I did not want the collection to become just a sequence of expensive whiskies chosen simply because they were rare or likely to appreciate.

Each bottle needed a reason to be there.

The whisky had to connect with a place, a person, a year, or some part of Teddy’s story, our story.

In 2025, Glencadam Distillery celebrated its 200th anniversary.

Glencadam was established in 1825 in Brechin, the Scottish town where my dad grew up before moving to Australia, and the place from which our branch of the Gellatly family comes.

That made the choice immediately personal.

I chose the Glencadam 25-Year-Old.

The whisky is matured exclusively in American oak ex-bourbon casks selected from Glencadam’s traditional dunnage warehouses. Each bottle is individually numbered and bottled at 46 per cent alcohol by volume, without added colouring or chill filtration. Its character is described through apricot, peach, and sweet spice.

But the technical details are secondary to why it belongs in Teddy’s collection.

This bottle connects him to Brechin.

It connects him to his Geepa’s childhood, to our Nanny Bel, to Scotland, and to the generations of family history that existed before either of us was born.

It also marked a significant year for the distillery itself. Glencadam’s bicentenary included the opening of its first visitor centre, 200 years after production began in Brechin.

I hope we will visit it together one day.

Perhaps we will stand inside the distillery, look out across Brechin, and tell Teddy that one of the bottles waiting for him back home was chosen because this was where part of his story began.

The Fourth Bottle: Seven Sons, Spirit of Brazil

Then came 2026.

Scotland had qualified for the World Cup for the first time in 28 years.

The last time Scotland were at a World Cup was France ‘98. Their opening match that year was against Brazil. Now, 28 years later, Scotland and Brazil were drawn together again. I remember that 1998 World Cup vividly. And this time, Teddy was here.

Football is such a huge point of connection between Dad and I, and in 2026 that connection extended to Teddy too, with “Football World Cup, Daddy” and “Go Geepa’s house watch football” becoming part of his first World Cup narrative.  

We watched Scotland’s and Socceroos matches at Geepa’s house. Three generations together, following the same teams, carrying the same mixture of optimism, dread, and misplaced confidence that seems to accompany supporting Scotland, and Australia.

Scotland lost 3–0 to Brazil in Miami, but the result was almost beside the point. Scotland was back at a World Cup, and Teddy experienced his first one alongside his dad and his Geepa.

Then I discovered Spirit of Brazil.

The whisky was created as part of a collaboration between 8 Doors Distillery in Scotland, Lamas Destilaria, and Casa Studart Cachaçaria in Brazil.

For its Seven Sons release, 8 Doors selected a single cask of lightly peated Highland single malt whisky distilled and filled in 1998, specifically connecting the bottle to the previous World Cup meeting between Scotland and Brazil.

It had then spent 28 years maturing before being bottled for their 2026 rematch.

Only 270 bottles were released. The collection also features a specially created Spirit of Brazil tartan, with profits from the Seven Sons bottling supporting the International Play Association and its work promoting children’s right to play in Scotland and Brazil.

It could hardly have been more perfect.

A 28-year-old whisky.

Distilled in 1998.

Released because Scotland and Brazil were meeting again in 2026.

Teddy’s first World Cup.

Watched with his Geepa.

And the story is still unfolding.

Brazil will travel to Queensland in September to play the Socceroos. We have tickets for the match at Suncorp Stadium in Brisbane on 29 September.

It will be Teddy’s first international football match.

One day, when I give him this bottle, I will be able to tell him that it represents the first World Cup we watched together and the first international match we attended together.

There was one final part of the story. 8 Doors did not ordinarily ship to Australia, so I emailed them and shared a draft of this whisky collection story. They arranged a DHL quote and made it possible to send the bottle to us. When it arrived, tucked inside the box was a small Highland cow plush toy and a handwritten card addressed to Teddy: “Here’s a wee Highland Coo, all the way from John O’Groats.” It was an unexpected and deeply personal touch. The bottle will one day be his, but that card is something I will keep forever.

Today, when the bottle finally arrived.

I took it out of its packaging and held it for a moment before placing it beside the others.

Lark.

Macallan.

Glencadam.

Seven Sons.

Four bottles. Four years. Four completely different stories.

What the Collection Has Become

At first, I think I imagined that I would choose a bottle each year and eventually hand Teddy a valuable collection.

Perhaps he would sell it and put the money towards a home, as Matthew Robson had.

Maybe that will still happen.

But four bottles in, I understand the collection differently.

Its real value is already accumulating.

The bottles form a through line between some of the most important people, places, and moments, in Teddy’s life.

His birth and the weeks we spent beside him in the NICU.

A significant family holiday.

His Scottish ancestry and his Geepa’s hometown.

His first World Cup and his first international football match.

It is not really about the whisky.

It is about creating a tradition and maintaining it long enough that it becomes part of the architecture of our family.

It is a tangible thing that grows as he does.

One day, when he is old enough and mature enough to appreciate it, the collection will be his.

Hopefully he will not discover it at 16, drink half the bottles and top them up with cold tea, assuming I will not notice.

Each bottle will mean something.

Each will tell a piece of his story. Our story.

He might keep them unopened.

He might sell them.

He might decide that whisky is disgusting and wonder what on earth I was thinking.

Or perhaps we will open them together, one at a time, over many years and many conversations.

Maybe he will continue the collection himself.

Maybe one day he will add a bottle to it for a child of his own.

Whatever Comes Next

I will admit that there is something about the collection that initially feels distinctly masculine.

I have wondered whether I would have arrived at the same idea if Teddy had been a girl.

That is a gender bias I have sat with.

Should the ritual change depending on whether the child receiving it is a boy or a girl?

Perhaps the collection would be Pinot Noir. I am partial.

Perhaps it would be rare books, vinyl records, or something else completely unrelated to alcohol.

The more the tradition develops however, the more I think the form matters less than the intention.

The right collection is the one that can hold a family’s stories.

The object is simply the vessel.

The Collection So Far

2023: Lark Personalised Single Malt

The year of Teddy’s birth. Personalised with his name and luctor et emergo. A second bottle for me carries the words memorise the air. It represents his arrival, his fight, his Tasmanian connection, and the beginning of the tradition.

2024: The Macallan Double Cask 18, 2023 Release

Found at The Macallan House inside Raffles Singapore during a family trip. It honours the father-and-son Macallan collection that inspired me to continue buying one bottle each year.

2025: Glencadam 25-Year-Old

Chosen during Glencadam’s bicentenary. The distillery is located in Brechin, where my dad grew up and where our Gellatly family history is rooted.

2026: Seven Sons, Spirit of Brazil, 28-Year-Old

Distilled in 1998 and released for Scotland and Brazil’s 2026 World Cup meeting. It marks Teddy’s first World Cup; the games watched with Geepa and his first international football match later this year.

Now, once a year, on the night before Teddy’s birthday, I pour myself a glass from my Lark bottle, the one that says memorise the air (although this year, that may need to be a soft drink).

Then I sit down with Morgan to continue another tradition we began during those early days.

We each write Teddy a letter.

One letter every year.

One from Mum.

One from Dad.

We will tell you about that later...