We brew in an old farm building on an organic estate on the East coast of Scotland. We’re in the farm’s old stable block actually, which is attached to three huge cowsheds. They used to keep the plough horses in the building we’re in, and the older folk in the village remember coming up here with carrots in their pockets for Danny and Judy the horses, when they were wee. There are no cows and no horses here now but we look out on ploughed fields and see the seasons change and the farming cycles trundle on outside with their reassuring inevitability.
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