What it takes to be Best Sommelier of the World

It is blossom time in Tokyo. An unruly pack of journalists, photographers and TV crews prowls the corridors of the Grand Prince Hotel Takanawa, where a world championship is taking place. Where’s the smart money going? Who’s looking good and who’s out of sorts? Who stayed out last night and who was tucked up in bed nice and early?

‘That’s Bruce, the coach of the Canadian team, he’ll know what’s cooking,’ mutters a colleague as an anxious looking guy scuttles past.

‘And there’s the European champion,’ whispers another as a dark-suited young man darts out of a door and hurries away. A Japanese film crew sprints off in pursuit.

Finally, an official corrals us together and solemnly hands out the behaviour rules for the final. Media representatives, we are told, must keep behind the indicated line. We must be silent at all times and can only take long-distance pictures and then only of someone’s face, not their hands.