Confessions of a Wino

I’ve just come back from the Amazon.  I couldn’t resist the recommendation they emailed me for a couple of reasonably up to date books on my favourite subject.  Both reference works of some weight, metaphysically as well as in the sense of excess baggage.

So if, like me, you fly on a Ryanair budget (and believe me, I wish I didn’t have to), then you will have to pay a £20 supplement if you want to take them on holiday with any more than your swimming trunks and sun cream.

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I was going to review this place next year when I could have titled the post, 4030 2010.  But on the 40th floor bar of 30 St Mary’s Axe the view could not wait and, verily, it must be one of the most stunning in the whole of London.

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Yes, you guessed it – sigh.  You can now follow me on twitter @tiptoptaps.

I am not the sort of person to waste money on a premium product unless I see real value.  Vintage Champagne is rarely, if ever, in my wine rack, but this is because I have never really thought it worth extra.  In January, I spotted a bottle of 1999 Bolly at only £58 and that included two free Riedel flutes.  At that price the value test was too tempting to miss, and maybe I reached a L’Oréal moment?

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I have a lot of respect for Stuart Pearce.  I liked him as manager of Man City although clearly he was not experienced enough at the time.  For the last couple of years he has been preparing England Under 21s for the European Cup.  We were clearly the best side in the tournament with the possible exception of Germany, who gave us a 4-0 bloody nose in the final.

But for 3 key suspensions, England might well have put up a fight, but what do I know?  I don’t have Sky Sports in the flat so I have had to suffer Wimbledon instead where sulky Scot/plucky Brit (depending if he loses/if he wins), Andy Murray, was on terrestrial TV playing in the latest night ever finish at Wimbledon (no football connection there – not any more anyway) against Stanislas Wawrinka, the more than plucky Swiss.

Bellingham “The Bernard Series” Old Vine Chenin Blanc 2007 is pretty plucky.  I thought Chenin Blanc tipped a wink to Blandshire, on average.  But this far from average example has more spunk than Murray, more intensity than Pearce and more grunt than Michelle Larcher de Brito.

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Once in a while comes along an idea that is so patently brain numbingly stupid, it is brilliant.

If there were a Darwin Awards for marketing, or a Gordon Brown award for bad timing, you would be hard pushed to find an entry that could stand proudly within 10 feet of Wine Wipes.

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Hotel restaurants always give me a slight sinking feeling. Reminders of 1980s boil in the bag meals; they always smell of stale cooking, probably because breakfast buffets are when they get 90% of their traffic.

The Hotel Russell probably counts early risers 99% of its clientele.  It’s easier to get a table at The Ivy than a breakfast table here.  Dinner, however, was predictably quiet.  A few lonely foreign travellers and one table of two couples from Yorkshire who were asking for more gravy – gravy shortages are punishable by death north of Watford Gap.

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Marketing null points! The sign makes it look like a Hungry Hippo All-U-Can-Eat Sunday lunch with foam balls and cheap beer. But step inside and nothing could be further from the truth. Fine seafood, fine wine list, fine (but relaxed) service and with just enough quirkiness and kitsch to make you smile.

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Well at first sight, you have to admire a man with cojones the size of decanters.  Rowan Gormley, not content with taking on the mighty Direct Wines (owners of the Laithwaites and Virgin Wines brands) at selling wine, is now considering a legal defence in the light of a provocative press release that Rowan put out on behalf of Naked Wines to which DW took offence.  Offence that was duly passed to their lawyers who promptly threatened to sue his ass.

Rowan’s blog offers the viewpoint of a man on one side of an argument that is undeniably exacerbated by the fact that the Virgin Wines founder left the employ of Direct Wines last summer under a compromise agreement (another word for a cloud).  The word “bollocks” is used to dismiss Direct Wines’ allegations.  Maybe storm in a teacup is better phraseology.

But before you dismiss this as a spat between two former lovers and tell them to grow up and get a life, be aware that this is a business tactic straight from the Virgin playbook (remember Virgin Atlantic/Richard Branson’s long term, bitter and very public fight with BA for example?).  Rowan certainly learned something from his years at Virgin.

Naked Wines needs publicity and hasn’t got a big advertising budget.  If I were Direct Wines, I would shut up and get on with running a successful business and starve Naked of PR oxygen.  Every time they react to one of Gormley’s prods they are adding fuel to his fire.

On the other hand, if I were Rowan Gormley, I would probably continue to aggravate my former employer and provoke whatever reaction I could.  The general public loves an underdog, especially one that looks like it is being grievously mistreated by the older school bully.

Bearing in mind that Sterling and the Euro are pretty much at parity (when taking into account tourist rates and bank “commission”) this bar bill left a lump in the throat rather than a hump on the back.