Confessions of a Wino

Signs of ageing are mostly self generated and excepting wrinkles, are usually related to the people you socialise with, the places you go, and the material goods you consume.  I discovered what seems like yonks ago that BBC Radio 2 plays better music than Radio 1.  In fact it plays much the same music as Radio 1 did in the years when I used to listen in to Simon Bates and Noel Edmunds.  I swapped my exciting Toyota sports coupé for a boring Mercedes Saloon about the same time (and yes, the interior was beige).  Two cars later I have accelerated through an automatic gearbox, which took me a while to get used to, into full-on middle age – yes, a diesel automatic.

I like to think I have taken all this in my stride, but today I realised that I have just passed an altogether much more serious milestone.  I have never seen anyone under 50 wear Ralph Lauren but I looked in my wardrobe today and found five shirts by this venerable, if ageing, New York designer.  And what is worse, I actually like wearing them.

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I have never been to the Ritz.  This maybe because I can’t afford it, or it could equally be because, to enjoy the Ritz fayre, I would have to bypass The Wolseley, right next door at 160 Piccadilly.  This is something I have not yet achieved.

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When you join a wine club, the first thing they do is try to get you to commit to a monthly/annual/quarterly case of wines “to help you explore the wine world you might not otherwise experience”, whereas you are stupid if you don’t realise that it’s just a plan to get a commitment to spend.

On this basis I was once stupid enough to subscribe to the Sunday Times Wine Club’s “Cellar Classics”, a six monthly case of 6 reds and 6 whites of about £10 a bottle.  In the end I decided I could pick the wines better myself and cancelled. 

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