Bergerac, despite its reputation, is a wine for those of all political hues

Bergerac used to be known as the poor man's claret, the favoured drink of Labour campaigners as they attempted to imitate the patrician lifestyle, if not the empty flatulence, of Roy Jenkins. Fortunately, human memory fades, even the memory of those sofa-shaped bores who hobnobbed their way to the top by pretending to be socialists. Nor need we recall the raw supermarket blends that bore the name of Bergerac and which were rightly driven to extinction by the Australians. Bergerac has matured, and all winos should take advantage of Corney & Barrow's current offer. The new Bergerac will welcome honest people home from their campaigns, whatever their causes, and whatever their effects.

One of the hottest and driest summers on record was in 2003. Some grapes shrivelled to raisins; others became stiff with tannin; others lolled, like the hanged Petrushka, on the vine. However, those that got through to harvest were crammed with fruit and sugar, and ready to burst their sweet syrups in the mouths of Bacchus and his pards. Some pundits reckon 2003 as a vintage to compare with 1945, 1961 or 1970. And you can see what they mean by tasting the two wines from La Combe de Grinou.

Chateau Grinou earned two stars from Hachette in 1998. La Combe (which means gentle valley, like our coomb or comb) is the second wine of this great estate, but in 2003 the distinction between first and second hardly mattered. The luscious red has all the depth and fruit of a St Emilion, with a spicy aroma and a round, full sweetness on the tongue. You could drink this every day and never tire of it, even when you waste your days on political campaigning.

The same estate's white is also exemplary. Harvested early, on account of the heat, this ripe and resonant wine achieves a perfect marriage between the rich fruit of the Semillon grape and the grassy freshness of Sauvignon. We drank it with our tinned sardines and it quite vanquished the flavour of fish-oil, singing its way through to the cheese.

The two wines from 2002 are less full, but with great merits of their own. Monestier La Tour, from the estate next door to Grinou, illustrates the diversity of white Bergerac. This stylish wine is made from Semillon and Sauvignon, with a 20 per cent of Muscadelle adding its apricot scent and clinging flavour. The result is a wine of great originality and charm.

The Clos d'Yvigne rose, expertly made by Patricia Atkinson, is the perfect accompaniment to her recent book The Ripening Sun, in which she describes her settling in Bergerac. This is not to be confused with News from Somewhere, which describes our settling in Wiltshire. But you could cease campaigning and settle anywhere, if there is wine like this on the table.

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