Blind tasting

In my line of work, I’m lucky enough to go to a lot of wine tastings – press tastings that is – sometimes as many as three or four a day at the height of wine tasting season. They are what a wine-writing colleague of mine likes to call drinks parties. He lurches about from bottle to bottle, being charming to everyone and consuming as much as he can. He never fails to chat someone up and never manages to trouble the spittoons. He rarely seems to file any copy though and I’m beginning to think that he believes they are simply put on for the benefit of his social life.

Actually, these tastings can be hard work. Not hard work as in being a miner or a farmer or a fighter pilot. No, hard work as in being an idle journo who doesn’t like getting up too early but might manage it by noon if there’s the promise of some free alcohol and congenial company.