Staying at Cameron House, a newly refurbished five-star hotel, travellers might expect a high level of service, comfort and soft furnishings. Smart and friendly staff? Check. Flat screen TV? Check. Posh toiletries? Check. Fine linens? Check. Electronic golf putting machine?... er, check. The contraption was a constant reminder that however cosy Cameron House might be, the call of the golf course was never far away.

As my previous golf experience involves only the “crazy” variety, Cameron House, on the shore of Loch Lomond, definitely set a challenge. I’m darn good at putting over tiny man-made streams and getting the ball round tight Wendy house corners. Some call me the Don Quixote of crazy golf, tilting at miniature windmills. But can I turn from crazy golf to crazy about golf in a weekend?

My tutor, Colin White, thinks so. I arrived for our mid-morning lesson with dark clouds looming on Loch Lomond. Colin was waiting, clubs polished and ready for action.

But first, the fashion: the pro shop was bursting with contemporary golf gear, and not a pair of trad Argyle socks in sight. Drawn immediately to the shoes, I cooed over some snazzy black-and-white loafers, wishing they came without spikes. I settled for smart black brogues from the hire selection, and accessorised with a cute white visor. After all, it is as much about looking the part as playing the game.

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I was tempted to just hang out in the spa’s stylish hydrotherapy rooms and outdoor heated pool. But when there’s golf to learn, facials and foot massages must wait.

The new course was created by Canadian Doug Carrick, a golf design star. The atmosphere is refreshingly relaxed, family and female friendly. This approach is deliberately different from many of the stuffy Scottish golf bastions. The Scottish Ladies Open has recently been resurrected after 11 years in remission, and the Carrick is its new home.

Club members include Sir Alex Ferguson and Ally McCoist, and when the Scotland football team decamp to Cameron House for a prematch powwow, they relax by taking in a few rounds.

Future footballers wives take heed: ditch your stilettos for spikes and head for Loch Lomond.

The adage “golf is a good walk spoilt” could never be thrown at the Carrick. It melds seamlessly into the dramatic landscape overlooking the loch, 3,196ft (974m) high Ben Lomond and the Luss hills; chasing the ball, no matter how out of the way, is a joy. We were blessed with multiple rainbows, birds, beautiful sunshine and just a sprinkling of skittish showers (this isn't Brigadoon after all!)

Colin is a pro golfer, and coaches beginners and advanced players at the Carrick. Lucky for me he started with the basics: an explanation of the game, the goal, and the lingo: handicaps, pars, birdies, eagles and bogeys. Then we got into the swing of things, with a 7 iron. Toes in sod, position, line up and... thwack! Right into the manicured grass. At this point, I must make a formal apology to Doug Carrick. Doug, I am truly sorry for chopping up so much of the lovely course you designed... please forgive me.

Thankfully, Colin was understanding and encouraging. A finger adjustment here, a shoulder alignment there... I switched to a feather-weight driver club and hit the ball into oblivion. Result! Next, a putting lesson at the 9th hole with the back-drop of the brooding loch. Despite the distracting scenery, I managed to putt right into the hole and even let out an air-punching celebratory yelp.

At its best, golf is a graceful sport, elegant, meditative and just the remedy for a busy city gal like myself. But like anything worth doing, it takes time and practice. Colin inspired me to have a go, and I had great fun. But I think I’m better suited to tilting at crazy golf windmills.

Whisky drinking, on the other hand, takes little skill and no practice at all. Understanding and appreciating it, however, is a different matter. I am not a natural whisky tippler; apart from my father cracking open a bottle of Drambuie at Christmas, it has never tempted my taste buds.

David Austin, a Master of Malt and drinks manager at Cameron House, had a difficult job at hand. Tutoring a whisky novice with a penchant for sickly sweet liqueurs... well, it could end in tears.

We met in the intimate Whisky Bar, stocked with more than 260 malt whiskies including the revered 1940 Macallan, their oldest, and at £110 a shot, their dearest, too.

My five tasting glasses gleamed on the green marble bar, and a tempting plate of whisky-friendly hors d’oeuvres hovered near by. Note sheets were distributed, listing the name, age and region of each whisky we were about to experience, with room for our own comments on nose and palate.

David charmingly chatted through the history of whisky, and some of the quirkier anecdotes got me wondering exactly what I had let myself in for. Apparently the only failsafe way of testing a whisky’s alcohol content is to pour it on gunpowder and strike a match. If it explodes, then it’s sufficient.

I was surprised to learn whiskies are “nosed” and 90 per cent of its quality can be determined by sniffing. David explained the five main whisky regions in Scotland and their characteristics – Lowlands, Highlands, Speyside, Islay and Campbeltown, plus the unofficial 6th region of the Islands. The soil, climate and production methods influence the smell, taste and flavours of whisky. We discussed quality single malts, popular and affordable blends, and the great water controversy. So should water and fine single malt whisky ever meet? “Oh, just a bit of tap water is fine.” David deadpanned. Every noser should follow the five “Ses”: see, sniff, swirl, sniff, and sip.” Try saying that after a few single malts.

The first nosing was a locally made ten-year-old Auchentoshan. It smelt grassy sweet and citrus, and tasted of rolling Scottish hills. . . or was Iimagining it? Next up from the far north was a 14-year-old Clynelish, which had aromas of English mustard and the sea and went fabulously well with a haggis bonbon nibble. A 1985 Glenrothes appeared a coppery topaz, with warming flavours of caramel, apricot and spice.

The ten-year-old Laphroaig practically knocked me off my bar stool with its medicinal smell. The taste, thankfully, had not a hint of TCP. The powerful and peaty sweet sea palate is archetypal Islay, David assured me. Finally, a 15-year-old Springbank, from a family-owned Campeltown distillery that made its fortune selling bootleg liquor to the United States during Prohibition. The refined rose petal, peat and toasted coconut flavours would have been lost on booze-starved Americans hell-bent on getting legless. Luckily for this American, I delighted in every sip, and the only tears shed were of joy for my baptism by uisge beatha, the “water of life”.

The next day I was filled with the keenness of a recent convert. A half-hour hurtle away is the Glengoyne distillery master blender session. An informative tour around the 200-year-old mash rooms, stills and warehouses ended in the sample room where I blended and bottled my own whisky.

Our guide proclaimed it “not bad” while suppressing a grimace. In future I'll stick to drinking whisky rather than concocting it.

I didn’t leave with a new set of golf clubs, but I did bubble wrap a few bottles of rare single malt for the journey home; 2008 is already taking on a distinctly amber hue.

Need to know

Double rooms with breakfast are from £129. The Sunday Driver Offer (available on a Sunday night, to April 8) is £298 per room for dinner, B&B, and includes two rounds of golf.
Golf lessons: half-hour from £30 and one hour from £45. Nine holes with instruction, £100.
Getting there: bmi (0870 6070555, www.flybmi.com) flies from Heathrow to Glasgow from £35 one way. Economy passengers pay £15 for each item of golfing equipment.
Getting around: Holiday Autos (0870 4000010, www.holidayautos.co.uk) has one week’s car hire from Glasgow airport from £112. Glengoyne (01360 550254, www.glengoyne.com) has tours from £4.50pp and a Master Blending Session for £25pp.

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