Checked shirts, band shirts, tweets in bursts, beer.
Music, realistic, natural, advice — clear.
These are a few of my favourite things…
About wine writers, wine people, wine guides to follow.
Passionate, approachable, not en primeur hollow.
Symposium dress codes and in-jokes of ties.
An outsider clings to their tale of lies,
of knowing, appreciating, joining the set.
Till prices of vintages cannot be met.
Why is it so hard to look past those smiles,
of teeth and red trousers that go on for miles.
Of writers and brokers in plush hotel lobbies,
treating wine and wine drinking like out of reach hobbies.
Rather, gruff looking men in old world cellars,
or new world thinkers and barrel chested fellas.
And women who spend their days by the vines,
not glamourous assistants to pour out the wines.
To join a movement that others dismiss,
of wine that tastes like a river of piss
of farmyard animals, not Chateau Grand Cru.
Why do they argue? If only I knew.
But what do I know? With limited palate,
a wine novice cursed with a quick drinking habit.
To glug and to slurp till the bottle’s no more,
afraid I’m becoming a terrible bore,
to friends who like wine that is priced as a deal.
And drink the same red, no matter what meal.
Yet still I dream of that 100 point wine,
or holding the grapes from a unicorn vine.
That’s all within reach of a drinker like me.
It’s wine to be drunk, not cellared till 2023.
For that’s what I want from my experience with wine,
instant gratification not an excess of time.
So I follow and learn and hope to one day,
meet checked shirts or Instagram guides at play,
with glass in hand and knowledge to share –
who graciously offer to help without care,
of what the establishment might wish to think.
Come, let’s raise a glass and enjoy what we drink.