It’s a cold night, full of mischief and threat; wolves howl, foxes fox, and I sit alone in my office, fire spitting at me in a desperate attempt to gain my attention. In one hand my pen droops whilst the other grapples with a wine glass’ shaft.
You may have heard of a symposion, a drinking party on couches, usually with 7 people where literature, philosophy and politics are discussed. In other words, not unlike essay/problem sheet procrastination in someone’s room, but instead of wine drawn from an elaborately decorated krater in the centre of the room, we have boxed wine, and instead of couches, we have the floor.
I step out of the window into the night, to take a long stroll through the city streets in a taxi. Sipping my wine and rocking the cab with my jumps of joy.
Sit back. Cradle the bowl of the glass in well washed hands. Remember that relaxation is nine tenths of the law. And now sit further back. See how far you can force your spine into the withering cushion of your chair. Feel it crack. You are truly relaxed.
Hi guys. We hope you’ll play along and have fun with this wine review. However, please enjoy safely. Before reading, ask your parents to help move chairs, tables and other objects you might bump into. And please remember: don’t run, jump or dance while drinking the wine.
A wine for the ages, but only those ages old enough to have amassed an hereditary fortune equal to The Bank of Scotland. I toss back my golden locks, and deep-throat the bottle. Finally some good wine.
“I tenderly nuzzle at the pale flavours. Ah, the taste of dew flopping off an overladen grass blade. You can see the hairs of each leaf magnified by the silvering balls of juice.”
“Isolation presses the bottle back into my arms and I sip again, this time with one of those curly straws that are impossible to wash. That nostalgic bubbling starts, a polyphonic outcry of Bordeaux against blue-tinted plastic. But still the wine yields no hidden layer. No yoke.”
“Very good!” I exclaim as an ice cream van rams me into the cliff, again. I stumble up, pulling handfuls of sand from my mouth as the van revs it’s Mr. Whippy machine.
Between £1,000 and £2,000 worth of burgundy and Pouilly-Fuissé wine has mysteriously gone missing from the extensive collection in Christ Church’s wine cellar, The Times reported today. The college has launched an investigation led by a lawyer after noticing a discrepancy in stocks in its internal records. Wine is available to be paid for by Read More…