Confessions of a Wino

Why does the Daily Mail keep shooting us in the foot?  In the latest Lord Triesman sting, I support Gary Lineker.  Actually I have always tried very hard to avoid the newspaper whose only purpose, in my opinion, apart from being the moral voice of useless old tossers, is to bring down anyone in authority.  Anyone…

I am thinking of emigrating to Uruguay where I hear that newspapers are, if not more rational, then at least more patriotic.  Ironic in a way when you think of the xenophobic tone of some Mail articles.

Uruguay produced this fab Tannat which I enjoyed with a bacon omelette (smoked dried cured streaky, since you asked).

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It’s a bit like Audrey II, the man-eating plant in Little Shop of Horrors.  My liver is taunting me to feed it some alcohol.  But whilst resisting the siren songs of Bacchus is the easy bit of my new year detox, my lily-livered response to caffeine addiction has been unmitigated capitulation.  Early foreplay with Earl Grey has now escalated to full frontal intercourse with Ceylon Orange Pekoe, through Queen Anne and even onto (gasp) sturdy robust Assam, the foundation of builders’ tea, in which well brewed cups, a teaspoon can stand as erect and proud as a pleasure dome on the road to Xanadu.  Rogering my central nervous system senseless.  Mmmmm feels good.

So whilst I have no contemporary wine experiences to write about, perhaps I ought to catch up with some old notes from 2009.  Yes, I’ll do that right now.  Oh hang on, I have to exercise first.