Jeremy Clarke Jeremy Clarke

My initiation into the fellowship of wine (I swallowed)

Things got off to a frosty start but by the seventh sampling the spirit was moving

issue 07 February 2015

This month’s wine club lecture was on red burgundy. The members were settling themselves at two large tables when I arrived, about ten to each one. I took an empty seat at the table farthest from the door and looked diffidently around, hoping to meet a welcoming eye. Not one. Presumably members were tired of sharing the mysteries of their deity with people who came only once, and they had evolved a wait-and-see policy.

Everyone had brought their own wine glass. There were glasses of every size and shape. Most had a notebook and biro also at the ready. The woman sitting directly opposite me now spoke to me accusingly. ‘Where’s your glass?’ she said. I shrugged at her. ‘Didn’t you read the flier? It clearly says to bring a glass and knife. You’ll have to go and ask that man over there if he can find you one.’ So I humbly went and asked the chap she had pointed out if I could borrow a wine glass.

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