My name’s Fiacre and I’m an oenophile.

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Before my trip to Manchester last week I took delivery of a consignment of wine that I ordered on line from a wine emporium. I’ve calculated that buying acceptable wine is less expensive this way, and it also gives me access to wines not available in the little one horse town wherein I reside. (When my bank makes an error in my favour I’ll be moving to Athens). This consignment contains 6 bottles, three from Lebanon, one from Georgia, one from Portugal and one Italian. The prospect of settling down with one of them excites me. But the circumstances will need to be optimal before I risk opening one of them. I’ll need a quiet evening when no neighbour bethinks to himself to mow his lawn. The sun can decide for itself if it wishes to hide behind cloud or not, and even some light drizzle will be acceptable so long as I have my black drinking coat and fedora to hand. My phone shall be switched off. Then I’ll let myself be transported to Lebanon, Georgia, Portugal and Italy, thought not all at once - it’s just wine, not a magic carpet. Do you like wine from what my son in law refers to as “weird places”?