Wine Archive

What goes up…

With every rise there is undoubtedly a fall. So it was on Saturday morning as I sat, staring in to the oblivion of my Twitter timeline wondering “am I still pissed or is no one making any sense today?” The answer to that was simple. Yes, I was undoubtedly still inebriated; and no, Twitter is

Montalbano Sono

As icons go, a balding police inspector from Sicily may not be up there with the most obvious choices, even more so given that he is a fictional character. Yet there is something in/about Salvo Montalbano that sings to me. That makes me think of all the time I have spent in Italian department stores

Quality control

Buy better, buy less. That appears to be the current commercial mantra. Enjoy less of what you like, as long as you are prepared to pay more than you normally would – is another way of approaching it. After the meat fiasco of the supermarkets earlier in the year, I noticed a number of emails

Cycling, Italy and Wine

I can’t ride a bike. Not in the technical sense of can’t, more so the physical act of. My last knee operation left me with a leg that I can’t bend beyond 110 degrees, if you view a straight leg as being 180. To ride a bike, to push the pedals round, you really have


I’m at a crossroads. Not an emotional, sell-my-soul to the devil kind of crossroads – more the virtual, unsure where to go next kind. See I worked in Milan. I could spend the rest of my life drinking coffee or Negronis in Piazza del Duomo, but then I’ve recently booked tickets to fly out to

Wine – Confessions of a bluffer

Why do you choose the wine you buy? I mean – what makes you choose the wine you buy? Are you the sort of person who once had a bottle with friends, or in a restaurant, and have steadfastly stuck with the same bottle ever since? Did you once watch a well known American comedy

Parla Calcio?

Originally posted on Parla Calcio? Oh Italy. The place I’d love to one day call home – that beautiful country I have visited more than any other (if you discount Lancashire) in recent years. Italy – the home of great food, great wine, historical landmarks, fantastic football teams – and a language so, so, err,

I’ll be seeing you (in all the old familiar places)

You find me writing from that familiar place once more. I’m sat at my desk, staring aimlessly out of the window – as the sun illuminates the weeping willow in the courtyard outside. Although I’d rather not be at work on such a glorious day, the thing with this familiar place is that it is