“We will not tolerate protesters harassing our customers”, said a particularly assertive BAA spokesperson. Which is hardly surprising since, as any poor sod who's travelled through any BAA-run airport will tell you, that's their very own speciality.
]]>This of course was when things moved from tableux to action: one policeman struck the knife-wielder's wrist with his baton, with the the other three immediately moving in with what looked to the untrained eye to be an impressively co-ordinated flurry of baton strikes and a couple of blasts of CS spray. The end result was a yelling heap of many-layered humanity on the floor, with dark blue body armour being the predominant fashion zeitgeist, accompanied by the delicately eyeball-searing aroma of CS vapour (in its effect, not unlike Lynx aftershave) which of itself did a fine job of incentivising the final evacuation of the restaurant.
We stood around a while outside, waiting to retrieve coats, while assorted other police turned up (cue memories of Terminator 2: “The police are outside.” “How many?” “All of them…”) and the trussed perp was bundled into the back of a police Transit. In the meantime the police who'd taken part in the subdual were seen to be determinedly trying not to ricochet off solid objects in the neighbourhood while their adrenaline overloads and reddened eyes faded.
Decades of festival-going have meant that I'm largely inured to the many random acts of ludicrosity that pepper Edinburgh during August. This however I will grant as being more memorable than most, despite the non-Equity nature of the participants. The only pain was that we had just paid for lunch when evacuated, thus denying us the possibility of reverting to the student mindset and legging it. The silver lining however is that I've sold the pictures I took of the event (what else did you think I'd have been doing?) to The Scotsman, and that nicely covers lunch and a few other bits and pieces besides. The pictures will appear here just as soon as the 24 hour exclusivity period with the newspaper expires. My first piece of paid reportage – makes a change from my usual fare of landscapes, travel and more typical forms of wildlife.
]]>I received e-mail confirmation of my order, but there was not detail of the order itself. Some time later I received a PDF invoice, showing a charge of nearly £50 for a large canvas print - just about the last thing I would ever consider ordering. Immediately I saw that, I e-mailed them to say that they'd gotten it wrong and to cancel the order. I sent four e-mails in total, all of which they ignored until a week later, AFTER I'd received an e-mail from them saying they'd shipped the print. Since then, I've had nothing but arrogance and stonewalling from them - they have completely ignored every individual point I've raised with them.
From their behaviour and attitude I can only conclude that they're either a) technically incompetent and have deliberately poor customer service and attitude or b) are a complete bunch of shysters.
So I can only recommend that others learn from the mistake I made in dealing with them and have nothing to do with them in the first place.
]]>On the 29th, no engineer appears and no attempt is made to contact us. The following day I rebook the visit for 2nd (or thereabouts) of December. Guess what? Another no-show and no contact made. When I call to complain, I'm told that the installation team “couldn't find” us. The simple fact that our house is shown and named on most maps published in the last 200 years and that following the postcode leads pretty much straight to our door seemed to carry no weight. I rebook a visit for the 6th-ish of December.
This time I'm phoned on the morning by the engineer (as they should) and he duly turns up. Only to look a touch crestfallen – he's not equipped for heights: no-one has informed him that it's a high job. He goes away. I rebook for 11 December, emphasising once again that the installation is on a chimney breast.
On the appointed day, Terence the Taciturn and his spotty assistant, Wilf the Weasel, turn up. They have ladders, equipment and an attitude. The attitude is one of deeply ingrained and uncaringly surly incompetence - they really don't give a flying f**k about the job they do: they leave rubbish everywhere, the packaging is scattered all over our courtyard and the cables from the dish are left hanging like overcooked spaghetti, apart from where it's been pulled as tight as a bowstring around our guttering. They are about to leave when I spot this and ask them if they'd please redo the cabling? They simply ignore me and start their vehicle. I've been slightly expecting some such response, so at this point I simply reverse my car across the exit from the courtyard and refuse to move it until they actually redo the job. Once they've departed, muttering darkly in Orcish, I find that one of the two feeds simply isn't working. Some time later, I notice that they've crushed one side of the dish on installation.
I phone up to book a fix. I tell them that it's a “heights” job. This is noted. On the 21st December, the engineer who turns up is, entirely not surprisingly by now, not equipped for heights. Showing great restraint, I call Sky without bringing their ancestry into question and ask for a new job with a heights team. This is now not available until the 6th January. Composure is slightly mislaid at this point.
On 6th January, the installers turn up and get both feeds working. Hurrah. They leave. From that point on the quality of our signal progressively degrades. By the 19th January we've lost lock on one feed entirely; by the 21st, there is no signal whatsoever on either feed. And season 6 of 24 has just started. I phone up again: I'm promised (and not for the first time) a refund of installation charges and my subscription. I'm also promised a call back that evening. No call is received. A note en passant: I've lost track of the number of unreturned phone calls and failures to escalate or action promises made by Sky staff.
On the evening of the 22nd I call again: the person I speak to can only find records of two bookings against our account: so much for record keeping at Sky. He tells me that they can't get installers out to us until the 8th February - more composure is lost. Words are said. So I'm now waiting for some sort of escalation. But I'm not holding my breath.
]]>Total fix time and materials: 5 minutes and two self-tappers. Against seven times in Baron's, not to mention their causal role in the window problem. At this point I rest my case, merely wishing that I'd started doing my own maintenance years ago.
]]>There's a 'however' there: despite having my car serviced religiously by them, I was always left with the impression that private buyers came a very poor second in their customer care priorities to corporate customers - that people who actually looked at the bills they paid and knew about the cars they drove were in fact something of an irritant to them.
That came to a head several years ago, after multiple attempts by their 'service' department to fix a couple of very simple problems: when it takes them seven attempts to fail to fix a simple loose door trim, it was time to file them very firmly in the category of 'semi-trained monkeys' and eventually end up using a local specialist garage where the word 'mechanic' is still honoured in the act. I wish I'd done that much earlier: Beacon Hill Garage are highly competent, completely helpful, unfailingly friendly and actually charge considerably less per hour than a London barrister. Which makes a bloody nice change.
Technorati Tags: Bad, Baron's of Hindhead, BMW, Rant, service
]]> However, when some git drove into my parked vehicle, I overrode my insurance company's wishes and insisted that it go back to Baron's bodyshop for a repair to the rear passenger door, on the principle that a BMW main dealer would be certain to do a repair that was up to the OEM standard of preparation and paintwork. I really should have known better by then: less than eIghteen months later, the rust started bubbling through the area they repaired.I've made intermittent attempts since then to get them to look at it and to admit even a degree of cupability, to no avail. My final attempt, as posted here, was to directly involve one Chris Meech, the Dealer Principal of the Hindhead branch. Our conversation is posted in full below. Please draw your own conclusions from this. My own are simple: That this particular BMW dealer's notion of integrity and customer service is to focus solely on short-term revenue generation, preferably from corporate buyers and that personal customer relationships means rather less than nothing to them. If that weren't sufficiently self-defeatingly, they have demonstrably failed to match their work to the standard of the brand with which they are associated. There are plenty of other BMW dealers in the area, several of whom I've now cheerfully dealt with, but only one of I will both actively avoid and seek to persuade others to avoid patronising. Game over for me – if you are an actual or potential private customer of Baron's, you may wish to ponder on this.
From: Richard Harris [mailto:******@******.***]
Sent: 17 May 2006 10:50
To: Barons of Hindhead Dealer Principal (Dlr Council)
Subject: Body shop quality problem
Dear Mr Meech,
I have a problem with the quality of a repair carried out to my car by your body shop, and with Baron's subsequent response.
Approximately three and a half years ago (I don't have details to hand), my 328i Touring, N780 TPE, was struck by another vehicle whilst parked, damaging the skin of the offside rear door. I overrode my insurance company's wishes, and insisted that the repair be carried out by Baron's, even though I then had to pay for a hire car myself, as I had turned down the insurance company's preferred repairer - I was determined to have a repair done to OEM standard.
Within about 18 months of the repair, rust started bubbling through from below, in the front bottom corner of the door. It was not however until about this time last year that I was able to bring it in for examination. Your body shop agreed that there was a problem, but that, as it was outside the 1-year warranty on repairs, there was nothing they would do.
And here is the irony of the situation: had I gone with my insurance company's policy, not only would I have saved the cost of the hire car, but would have had a five-year warranty on the repair so, even had they done as poor a job as Baron's, I would still have been covered by their warranty.
So we have a situation where I have insisted on using you for a repair, at some cost to myself, but where the repair you have carried out is of poor quality, and far below the OEM quality of the vehicle (there is no other trace of rust on it). I would therefore be grateful for your comment on this, bearing in mind that Baron's has now committed the ultimate marketing sin: making a customer feel foolish for having used and trusted you. There can be no greater disincentive to continuing a relationship. I purchased this vehicle new from you and am certain to continue driving BMWs - nothing else offers the blend of performance, handling and utility. What is very much in doubt is whether I have any further dealings with Baron's.
I look forward to your response.
sincerely,
Richard ******
-------------------------
From: ****.*****@baronshindhead.bmw-net.co.uk
Subject: RE: Body shop quality problem
Date: 17 May 2006 14:22:37 BDT
To: ******@******.***]
Mr Harris
I note your comments regarding your 328i Touring *******.
I have looked at our records and I note that the repair we carried out was in November 2001, some four and a half years ago. We have not seen the car in our workshop for over 4 years.
I also note that out estimator who inspected the car most recently was of the opinion that the rusting was caused by an external source and was not related to the repair.
In view of the above and in particular the time factors involved I regret I am unable to assist further.
Chris Meech
Director
From: Richard Harris [mailto:******@******.***]]
Sent: 17 May 2006 14:35
To: Barons of Hindhead Dealer Principal (Dlr Council)
Subject: Re: Body shop quality problem
Dear Mr Meech, How strange it is that the only patch of rust on the car (rust, on a modern car?) should be on a repair that Baron's have carried out. On my last visit, your estimator was NOT of the opinion that it was an external cause, simply that the repair was outside of your warranty period.
It is also worth noting that the reason I stopped having the car serviced by yourselves (I went to Vines, despite the extra journey involved) was Baron's repeated inability to correct simple problems with the vehicle.
You can therefore count on my not giving any business of any form to Baron's in the future and of doing my best to persuade family, friends and colleagues not to do so. I shall also publish all correspondence in this matter on my public blog, helping inform any others who are considering giving their business to you.
Sincerely,
Richard Harris
From: ****.*****@baronshindhead.bmw-net.co.uk
Subject: RE: Body shop quality problem
Date: 17 May 2006 14:47:27 BDT
To: ******@******.***]
Return-Path: <****.*****@baronshindhead.bmw-net.co.uk>
Mr Harris
I acknowledge receipt of your reply.
In view of your comments I see little to be gained from further discussion.
Chris Meech
Director
Which was only to be expected…
]]>Traditionally, a time of giving to the needy – most notably from your credit card to the lonely and wasted figures of the high street retailers. This commercial Bacchanalia occasionally shows signs of incipient corruption by spirituality and reflection, something that those who truly believe in the values of Christmas will resist to the final ring of the last cash register.
Christmas is the festival of the Nativity and commemorates the birth of Jesus Christ, in the Christian liturgy on the night of December 24/25. Christmas was once a moveable feast celebrated many different times during the year. The choice of December 25 was made by Pope Julius I in the fourth century AD to pre-empt the pagan rituals of the Winter Solstice. In the twentieth century however it has become a fixed feast celebrated (or at least dreaded) for most of the year.
Some Christian church sects, called old calendarists, never got the hang of the Gregorian calendar and still celebrate Christmas on January 7 (Dec. 25 of the Julian calendar). A useful excuse for those you've forgotten to buy presents for in December…
Many of the traditions associated with Christmas (giving gifts, lighting a Yule log, singing carols, decorating an evergreen, sacrificing large poultry (or small relatives) hark back to festivals from other, older religions, just a few of which are:
]]> ChanukahHaving worked at a company with a strong Orthodox Jewish contigent (that's Orthodox, definitely NOT orthodox), I may have a slightly skewed view of Chanukah: from an outsider's point of view, it appears to involve the graduated consumption of heavy duty pastries, starting with Jam doughnuts and working up to full chocolate monstrosities over a period of several days. I am however informed that there's a historical background to this, although I'm still not sure where the doughnuts come in:
Judea has an unfortunate geography - it's on the primary land and sea route between Europe, Asia and Africa. With such strategic importance, it has at various points, been occupied by nearly every imperial power with three elephants and a chariot to call its own, including the Egyptians, Hittites, Syrians and Greeks, occasionally at the same time, thus leading to not insignificant disputes over whose turn it was to play conqueror that week.
In about 200BC, Judea was under the control of the Graeco-Syrian forces of Antiochus IV. In a strangely ironic and inverse resonance with our times, although not allowed to maintain a defence force or take part in foreign affairs, the Judeans had hitherto enjoyed semi-autonomous control within the country. Antiochus IV, however prohibited the observance of Jewish customs and ordered the adoption of Hellenistic culture, including Greek customs, language and religions.
Antiochus' motive was to bring together all the peoples of Israel into one homogenous nation and tried to achieve this through the classic management approaches of brute force and the very real threat of death. While some Jews accepted this ruling (particularly the upper classes), changing their names and following Greek traditions in place of their own. the majority spurned this imposition and refused to comply.
The resulting guerilla war was led by a man called Matthalius and his sons, culminating three years later in the victory of the Jews over the superior forces of the Greeks. Upon re-entering Jerusalem, the Jews found that the temple had been defiled by the Greeks - in fact when they went to relight the Holy Light they found that the sacred oil used to light it had been spoiled. They found just one small jar with enough oil for one day. This was lit but instead of burning out, lasted for eight days and nights until more oil was fetched. This was decreed to be a miracle according to the Jewish Oral Law, the Talmud, and to be celebrated as Chanukah or Hannukah.
To celebrate Chanukah eight candles or jars of oil are placed in a Menorah (more properly, the Hannukiyyah), a specially shaped candelabrum. An additional candle, the Shamash (servant) is placed higher up and is used to light the candles. The candles are lit one per night until the eighth night when all the candles are alight. At the same time prayers are said and songs sung, games are played and special Chanukah foods eaten.
The Romans celebrated the feast of the god Saturn with the festival of Saturnalia. This ran from the middle of December until the (then) January 1st. With crys of "Jo Saturnalia!" the celebration would include masquerades in the streets, big festive meals during which masters and slaves would exchange places, visiting friends, and the exchange of good-luck gifts called Strenae (lucky fruits). Halls were indeed decked with garlands of laurel and green trees lit with candles. Sound familiar?
This was a fun and festive time for the Roman, but entirely too much fun for the early Christians, who thought it an abomination to honor the pagan god and who would much rather a solemn and religious holiday to celebrate the birth of the Messiah, not one of cheer and merriment. Unsurprisingly, Saturnalia continued until the church finally admitted that banning fun was not the best way to win converts and decided to go with the flow by a strategic merger of Saturnalia and Christmas.
Novo (new) Hel (sun) was the Gaulish festival of the Solstice. Its main claim to fame today is as one of the possible origins of the word Noël, the other two candidates being Judaic and a religious Latin term, linked to Dies natalis (the birthday of Christ).
The Japanese Buddhist Festival of the Broken Needles. No, this isn't about the aftermath of Christmas, when you spend hours removing pine needles from improbable and painful places - Hari-Kuyo is all about sewing needles. It is held on December 8 each year and has been carried on since at least 400 AD. Once only observed by tailors and dressmakers, today anyone who sews participates. A special shrine is made for the needles containing offerings of food and scissors and thimbles. A pan of tofu is the centre of the shrine and all the broken and bent needles are inserted into it. As the needles go into the tofu, the sewer recites a special prayer in thanks for its fine service over the year. The needles find their final resting place at sea, as devotees everywhere wrap their tofu in paper and launch them out to sea. A warning to fish in the Sea of Japan: Eating passing packages of tofu can be bad for your health.
This unusual event takes place in Oaxaca, Mexico on December 23 each year. It dates to the mid-ninteenth century and commemorates the introduction of the radish by the Spanish colonists. Radishes in this region grow to the size of yams but are not the rounded shape we usually see. They are twisted and and distorted by growing in the rocky soil. These unusual shapes are exploited as local artisans carve them into elaborate scenes from the Bible, from history, and from the Aztec legends. Cash prizes are awarded and the evening culminates with a spectacular firework display. I'm really, really afraid that all of this is true...
Ganna is the Ethiopian celebration of Christmas. Legend has it that the shepherds rejoiced when they learned of the birth of Christ and they waved their hooked staffs about and played Ganna. This is the origin of the game called Ganna that is traditionally played on Christmas Day (January 7 - the Julian date of Christmas) by all the men and boys in Ethiopia. One assumes the women have more sense.
The ancient traditions of Pakistan pre-date the Christian era. During winter solstice, an ancient demigod returns to collect prayers and deliver them to Dezao, the supreme being. During this celebrations women and girls are purified by taking ritual baths. The men pour water over their heads while they hold up bread. Then the men and boys are purified with water and must not sit on chairs until evening when goat's blood is sprinkled on their faces. Following this purification, a great festival begins, with singing, dancing, bonfires, and feasting on goat tripe and other such delicacies.
To celebrate the New Year in Tibet, Buddhist monks create elaborate yak-butter sculptures depicting a different story or fable each year. The sculptures reach 30 feet high and are lit with special butter lamps. Awards are given for the best butter sculptures.
The Feast of the Ass was a Middle Ages Christian festival - at one time this was a solemn celebration reenacting the flight of the holy family into Egypt and ending with Mass in the church. The festival became very popular as it transformed into a humorous parody in which the ass was led into the church and treated as an honored guest while the priest and the congregation all brayed like asses. The Church supressed it in the fifteenth century, although it remained popular and did not die out until years later.
Dosmoche is the Tibetan Celebration of the Dying Year. Lasting five days, it centres around a magical pole covered with stars, crosses, and pentagrams made of string. Dancers dress up in hideous masks to frighten away the evil spirits for the coming year. Unfortunately, this doesn't seem to work against the Peoples Liberation Army. Feasting and prayers fill the days and the finale is when the pole is torn down by the townsfolk.
The Celtic festival of the Winter Solstice is held on the eve of the shortest day of the year. During the first millennium in what is today Scotland, the Druids celebrated Winter Solstice honoring their Sun God and rejoicing his return as the days got longer, signaling the coming of spring. Also called Yule, this tradition still lives today in the Wiccan traditions and in many cultures around the world.
A huge log - the Yule Log - is brought into an outdoor clearing and becomes part of a great bonfire. Everyone dances and sings around the fire. All the noise and great excitement is said to awaken the sun from its long winter sleep, hurrying spring on its way as the cycle begins once again and the days grow longer than the nights. But at least the pubs now stay open around the clock.
Before Christianity the Swedish people celebrated "Midvinterblot" at winter solstice. It simply means "mid-winter-blood", and featured both animal and human sacrifice. This tradition took place at certain cult places, and basically every old Swedish church is built on such a place. The pagan tradition was finally abandoned around 1200 AD, due to the persistence of serial missionaries (of course the first few lots were sacrificed too, by the Vikings). Midvinterblot paid tribute to the local gods, appealing to them to let go of the winter's grip. The winters in Scandinavia are dark and grim, and these were the days before central heating. And the Gods were powerful.
To this day the Swedish name for Christmas is Jul (Yule), and the Jul gnome has a more important role than Father Christmas or the Christ child. It's a direct evolution of the old Midvinterblot festival - you don't kill those pagan traditions so easily. Indeed, the old Viking religion with Thor and his friends is still practiced by some people, somewhat less bloodily and, given the cost of drink in Scandinavia, rather more expensively.
The Mesopotamians hedged their bets by believing in many gods, under the aegis of their chief god - Marduk. Each year as winter arrived it was believed that Marduk would do battle with the monsters of chaos. To assist Marduk in his struggle the Mesopotamians held a festival for the New Year. This was Zagmuk, the New Year's festival that lasted for 12 days.
During Zagmuk, it was the tradition for the Mesopotamian king to return to the temple of Marduk and swear his faithfulness to the god. The tradition also called for the king to die at the end of the year and to return with Marduk to battle at his side. In one of the earlier known examples of executive delegation, the Mesopotamians used a body double for the king. A criminal was chosen and dressed in royal clothes. He was given all the respect and privileges of a real king. At the end of the celebration this "king" was stripped of the royal clothes and slain, while the real king carried on with the revels. Marduk's opinion of this is not recorded, but it may be worth noting that Mesopotamian Empire has been in more or less constant decline since Gilgamesh's time.
The Persians and the Babylonians celebrated a similar festival fo Zagmuk, called the Sacaea. Part of that celebration included the exchanging of places, the slaves would become the masters and the masters were to obey, something that was much later picked up by the Romans for Saturnalia.
The above information was culled from a variety of sources, both online and literary, all of whom should consider themselves thanked. Words and attitude are entirely home-grown.
]]>One such recipe is the famous Scots dessert of Cranachan. While other modern recipes make this from large quantities of double cream and little else, this is my own, slightly lower-fat, variant, which starts with the fancy that mediaeval Scots would have had more cheese than cream lying around, and so eschews the crudity of cream for the subtler taste of soft cheese. Here I'm using the traditional (Viking-era) Scots skimmed milk soft cheese, Crowdie (Gruth if you're a Gaelic speaker), updated for modern tastes with a proportion of slightly sweeter Mascarpone. If you can't get Crowdie, Ricotta makes a passable substitute.
Preparation time: 10 minutes;
Making time: 15 minutes;
Chilling time: overnight, by preference.
(if no Crowdie be available, use 500g Mascarpone + 250g Ricotta)
Thoroughly mix the cheeses and the Crême Fraiche together, adding the honey as you do. Then stir in a careful amount of whisky and adjust to taste. Then finely grate a little (and only a little) Nutmeg into the mixture.
Toast the oats lightly under a hot grill, being careful not to take your eye off them as you do so.
Prepare four serving dishes … preferably tallish, short-stemmed glasses, and place four Blackberries at the base of each glass. Then fold all bar four of the remaining Blackberries into the cheese mixture, making sure that they are evenly distributed. Then scoop the Cranachan mix into the serving glasses and smooth down, to remove air spaces in the glasses and to leave a reasonably smooth top. Onto the top of each, scatter the toasted oats and then, finally, top with the remaining Blackberries. Put into the fridge to chill, preferably overnight, as this gives the taste a chance to develop.
]]>
Total preparation time: 20 minutes;
Cooking time: Main course 20 minutes, rice 45 minutes, mushrooms 5 minutes;
Zen time: About two hours.
finely chop the ginger, garlic and onion, and sauté them gently in a wide pan in olive oil with a dash of sesame oil added. Stir in the magic paste, remove from the heat, shake the tin of coconut milk well and turn it into the pan. Return to the heat and stir in the Red Curry paste and the sliced and bruised Lemon Grass. Bring it to a gentle simmer, without letting it boil. Allow to simmer gently for five minutes, then turn the heat off and add the roughly chopped Dill and Coriander and some fresh ground black pepper and the horseradish. Cover the sauce and let it cool - leave it for a couple of hours if you can, tasting it occasionally as the spicy, tangy flavour develops.
At this point, you can also check out the wine you'll be serving with it. A crisp, slightly fruity white works well with this - either something from Southern Germany or (and this went particularly well) a bottle of Dorking's finest – Denbie's Surrey Gold.
After ninety minutes or so: If you want to serve the fish on a bed of mixed Wild and Basmati rice, remember that most wild rice takes a good 45 minutes to cook - add the Basmati rice close to the end and, when ready, drain and add a knob of butter and some fresh-ground black pepper.
After two hours: If still sufficiently sober, carefully bring the sauce back to just below the boil, and lower the salmon into the pan (you did use a wide enough pan, didn't you?). Cover the pan and simmer gently for five minutes, before turning off the heat altogether – the salmon will poach nicely in the heat from the sauce. Have another aperitif and prepare the mushrooms while you're waiting. After fifteen minutes, poke the salmon doubtfully with a fork, and you should find that it's cooked to a pink perfection. At this point, lift the salmon carefully from the pan, place on a plate in a warming oven (and well away from vulching felines), while you heat and stir the sauce to reduce it to the desired consistency - creamy but not too thick, stirring all the while.
The mushrooms: Choose the smallest mushrooms and clean them, then sauté them whole for a few minutes with some olive oil in a hot wok, adding soy sauce until browned, then throwing a final dash of basalmic vinegar into the pan to glaze them.
Finally, serve: layer the rice on the plate, place the salmon atop the rice, pour the reduced sauce over the rice and place the mushrooms around the edge. Accompany with a lightly dressed rocket & feta salad.
]]>Then there are those wines which you approach on tip-toe and preferably from behind, to catch them unawares, and hopefully in a state still more fit for drinking rather than for use in hand-to-hand combat. These are the ones where you can have no idea whether they'll come roaring out of the bottle after years or decades of confinement, looking to slaughter the innocent and drink their blood, or which will slide smoothly forth, with a casually doffed cap and a cultured 'good evening', in best Leslie Philips intonation. The mere opening of such requires commitment, nerve, and a brief offering to the gods of viniculture that they haven't turned to purest paint-stripper over the years. The drinking of them requires both physical and mental preparation, and a clearing of both mind and palate in hopeful anticipation of joys to come.
]]> Before yesterday, my finest wine drinking experience had been a birthday bottle of Chateau Talbot 1982, liberated by a close friend from the depths of Balliol College's cellar - a wine of quite stunning complexity and a careful richness of taste that quite transcended anything I'd hitherto tried. A subsequent purchase of a half-case of the '81 yielded a near-as-good experience - the vintage itself being a tad inferior to the '82 and a final minor disappointment as the final bottles were kept just that little too long. But the Chateau Talbot is of impeccable provenance, widely available and a known quantity. What then of those wines which come from the outer darkness, possibly even without labels, and acquired on the nod of someone-we-hope-knows? We may be uncertain of their knowledge, or possibly even their sanity, but feel compelled nonetheless to take the plunge.