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Our divorce from the EU will leave us, like characters in a Dantean parable, lapping frantically at a lake of English wine.
That said, I view a month of abstinence from alcohol as little more than an irritating fad.
For those of us who get a little twitchy at the narrative of maternal virgins and venerated male children, France’s most famous wine region offers a delicious antidote.
They have so much more in common than my devotion.
Beefeater and Gordon’s are familiar, although their shareholders must hanker for the days when the unfamiliar was a little harder to find.
Made by the people growing the grapes, does grower Champagne offer proof that the individual can flourish within a system tailored to big business?
If Champagne is the celebration wine, perhaps English can be the wine of commiseration, at least until we once again have reason to rejoice.
There are white, rosé and even sparkling Riojas, and the reds range from supermarket bargains to bottles worth hundreds of pounds
At a new hotel with an excellent house fizz and a decent southern French Vermentino at £5 a glass, I could almost see my 22-year-old self and my much-missed father both smiling their approval.
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I used to rarely bring out the corkscrew when delving into Chinese food – but I’ve learnt the error of my ways.
As the river of wine became a flood, consumers clutched at labels as at a life-raft. Bordeaux was Best. No Celebration was Complete without Champagne.