Confessions of a Wino

If you were thinking of inviting me to a party in the near future, you might want to think again.

I’ve been experimenting with Virgin Wines and, having built up a bit of a credit in my Virgin Wine Bank, I thought it would be fun to try and spend some of my ill-gotten gains on the auction part of the site.  In concept, it’s brilliant, but as with all auctions, caveat emptor applies, in other words, make sure you know what you are buying…..

In a head-rush, I read about the Marqués de Valencia Gran Reserva 2001 and thought it looked a nice Rioja.  Voted wine of the year 2007 by Virgin members, the retail price was advised as £95.88 per case.  For a Gran Reserva this seemed cheap so I quickly placed a bid of about £65 and an hour later had won the case for less than £50.  That’s cheap for any wine.  When it arrived I understood why.

On opening it smelt a bit odd.  Where is the familiar vanilla/oak?  Why does it taste of petrol?

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The magic of modern technology means this post is brought to you whilst I am travelling on England’s East Coast Mainline.  If only the wireless internet was as fast as the train, though.

The franchise, which used to be run with aplomb by GNER, has recently been acquired by National Express.  The first change I noticed was that they had re-priced the wireless connection according to average bandwidth achieved – yes – it is now zero cost, free of charge, 3 bits per second allowing you to download the home page of Confessions in only 12 minutes but at least no negative effect on your wallet (or purse) .  Otherwise things seem “same old, same old” and as ever infinitely superior to the west coast service operated (without aplomb) by Virgin.  I am in the fortunate position of often being able to choose which service I take to London and that is why I am here right now.

In addition to railways, in life generally, I tend to make choices based on snapshots, mere slivers of experience, and hence I am many times more likely to choose a wine from Burgundy or Bordeaux, than the Rhône Valley.  This is a shame – especially on the evidence offered by this bottle.

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I was delighted to receive the 2005 Château Guiraud I ordered en primeur what seems like ages ago.  The photo below shows it compared to the same wine from the 1990 vintage (on the left).  Wow!

As I speed towards old and wrinkly, it’s nice to see that some things can age with enormous grace.

“Serve this Pinot Noir cool (my emphasis) in a big glass to fully appreciate……” so said the label on the back of this wine.  So why are most bloody restaurants so bloody determined to serve me red wine so bloody warm????

I realised recently, that I had been ignoring Oz wines (sorry Edward!), and that I have not visited Majestic in ages so, on the way back from a Saturday morning haircut recently, I dropped in to see if I could combine these two shortfalls by asking what the inhabitants of Van Diemen’s land could do with the sex kitten of grapes.  Majestic came up with this gem at a mere £9.99. 

When you live in the northern hemisphere, it is easy to forget that in Oz, the further south you go, the closer you are to a frozen pole.  So maybe Tasmania is the Pinot Noir friendly Bourgogne-u-like to Clare Valley’s Cabernet Sauvignon friendly Bordeaux-wish-it-was?  I have a different theory, as you might expect.

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Can you play a musical instrument? I’ve been trying to learn the guitar for more than 30 years and I am still useless. Every time I pick one up (I own two or three) and start making some progress, I am consumed by some other pastime, like blogging, or work, or trying to lose weight.

My life (and presumably yours) is controlled by one’s own priorities. On a scale of one to ten how do you rate: Family? Work? Music? Art? Science? Procrastination? Procreation? Playstation? It seems that music all too frequently falls down my list.

I once signed up to eBay, purely to sell some old punk singles. When I realised they were going for peanuts, I ended up buying more Monkeys; adding to my rarely played and esoteric collection. Whilst I am now the proud owner of the excellent original version of Banana Splits by The Dickies on yellow vinyl, did I really need it?

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So the football season is coming to a close and it’s time to start thinking about cricket.  England will entertain two wine nations, New Zealand and South Africa, in the 2008 summer’s international test matches.  Tonight I am preparing for the season by drinking wine from a non cricketing nation.  On my world tour of Pinot Noirs, this latest is another one from the Wine Society Chilean PN mixed case (£82), and is the second from the Leyda stable.

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You may have noticed I was having problems with my ISP until recently.  This was driving me to drink which is, fortuitously, a pastime in which I am experienced and capable.

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More from my flirtatious world tour of Pinot Noir, and this one came in a Sunday Times Wine Club Pinot Noir mixed case at £69.99 (the case, not the bottle).

Is Pinot Noir really so fickle?  My recent experience says that many areas of the world are successfully bedding this sex kitten of a grape.  Adolfo Hurtado has certainly put a notch on his bedstead.  For he’s a jolly good fellow!

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I’ve just returned from the opening night of the Opera North production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare’s play reconfigured as an opera by melody dodger, Benjamin Britten, whose proud boast seems to be never to have written an opera in a major key.

I normally love Opera North (full disclosure, I know one of the chorus quite well), but I am not a Britten fan.  A Midsummer Night’s Dream reminded me of all the negative aspects of the earlier, and otherwise superior, Peter Grimes.  Incessant horns and strings in deliberate discord, keeping the audience on its edge in the same way Hammer House of Horror films used organ fugues to build tension.  Britten never seems to let go, though.  It was like sitting on a train, delayed because of a fatality on the line.  One feels sorry for the victim (or cast in this case) but I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible.  Listening to a gauntlet scratching up and down a blackboard would have been more entertaining, and arguably, more musical.

The humour (what little existed) was 50 years old and could probably only have been written by a tortured homosexual of the repressed mid 20th century.  There were clearly a few from that era in the audience, occasionally chortling and even applauding.  I watched with the same cringingly embarrassed feeling of watching a Carry On film from the Beatles epoch.  Fortunately, to avoid total boredom, I was simply able to stare up at the awesome ceiling of Leeds Grand Theatre, the home of Opera North, and surely one of the best theatres in the world for architectural detail.

Just round the corner from the Grand Theatre is Lounge Bar and Grill, and that is where we chose to eat before the performance.  With 25% off, the bill for two with a bottle of wine came to only £40 plus service.  Even for Leeds that is cheap.

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Software and wine should never be mixed, unless you happen to run a software company and you like wine.  Or someone named after a manure breeze block launches a wine that happens to emulate a content delivery software company.  In this world of legal battles between Apple and the Beatles, who will sue who?

But if you write software, the chances of cutting some quality code when pissed are about as good as enjoying a soirée recital of Vogon poetry.

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