My partner's
new phone finally arrived - an event which, coinciding with the end of the year
and the need to buy a new desk-calendar for our joint activities triggered the
idea that we ought to harness the power of technology by diarising in The Cloud
instead of on paper. The perceived advantage of this would be to give each of
us access, at all times, to all three diaries: hers, mine and ours. A mere two
days after starting the process I (and it was I) managed to jump all the
hurdles - the passwords, domains and internet identities placed in the way of fulfilment
- and to connect us at last to the wireless wizardry of simultaneously
synchronised calendars. The word ‘phone’ hardly does justice to such a
remarkable device.
Our new
diary system should ensure we act in unison when it comes to events such as the
extraordinary cluster of 'significant' birthdays presently overwhelming us. The
ages 40, 50, 60 and 70 have been sneaking up on various of our friends and
relatives, bringing in their wake dismay, consternation, distress – and a few
parties. It's tough, as is well known, to pass through a decade barrier: with
the possible exceptions of 10 and 20 they are unwanted milestones along life's
highway and so we empathise with those whose turn it is to encounter them. Less
well appreciated are the niceties of acknowledging these markers. Some choose
to keep it quiet, while others brazen it out. But suppose, for example, a party
is proposed: then what sort of arrangement would delight guests of differing
ages and backgrounds? Should it be themed or freestyle? Fancy dress or casual?
At home or at a venue? And how do you send invitations? By snail-mail, email or
publicly via Facebook?
But with
several parties attended so far - and more to come - I am enjoying the experience
of all the different formats. There was just one disappointment: the party that
ran out of my preferred tipple - red wine. So I was delighted, during a recent
stay in London, to be invited to a tasting of wines from a particular Cรดte de Beaune producer. The preliminary
lecture concerning the merits of chalk ridges, terroir and south-facing slopes
and incorporating anecdotes about the Domaines and their owners heightened my
anticipation so that the first taste of wine was guaranteed to please – even though
it was white (well, yellow actually – but that is an etymological mystery, in
the same way as the origin of the word ‘phone’ will be one day). The next three
whites, however, convinced me that the wines were seriously good and I became
excited at the prospect of the reds. But they didn’t live up to my
expectations: I was disappointed by their lack of substance and their harsh
tannins (Pinot Noir is so prone to
variable weather conditions) and I was obliged to wait until supper time for a
decent bottle of something plumper, juicier and redder.
I was
staying with a relative, whose patience I must have stretched many times with
my particularities, but who still seemed genuinely pleased to accommodate me
and, although she prefers to drink white wine, had thoughtfully laid in a
bottle or two of red. But on the last night
of my stay, having retired early to my bedroom with what remained in my glass,
I stumbled and spilt it onto the white bedclothes. Distraught I rushed
downstairs hopeful of finding some sort of remedy and, perhaps, forgiveness.
"Oh, never mind" she said "I'll just stick it in the
washer". The perfect host! Nevertheless I have since been thinking of
cultivating a white wine palate.
I hear you can get professional tasting notes downloaded onto your
phone, which could be useful when choosing from restaurant wine lists. And just
imagine the tweets: “Quietly celebrating 70 with oysters + Puligny-Montrachet Les
Referts 1er Cru Olivier Leflaive 2008”.
No comments:
Post a Comment