Au Revoir to our Accountant
August 2nd 2008, by GQ
Yesterday I had the pleasant task of having to fire our accountant, who we’ve been with since buying the vineyard in 1999. On the way to his new office just off the Bordeaux ringroad, or rocade, I thought about what I was going to say, remembering from previous situations that the opening line is quite important.
My favourite is ‘I don’t know how we’re going to manage without you, but we’re going to give it a try’, which is quite a satisfying line to deliver but it’s a bit glib and disrespectful to the listener. On a different tack a few years ago, when we had to part company with a vineyard worker called Jacques, I had to resort to the only other area of common ground between us, which was football. ’Jacky’, I said, ‘I’ve given you the yellow card, and now, with regret (a touch of Sir Alan there), I’m afraid it’s the carte rouge‘. I thought of that conversation when Jacky and I bumped into each other again in the local supermarket last week. We talked about vines, and football.
A Wet Week in Cornwall
July 14th 2008, by GQ
We must have picked about the worst week to go to Cornwall for a break, weather-wise. From the 4th to the 11th July, it rained and rained, and then rained some more. Each time we looked hopefully at the forecast, it seemed that the southwest was the blackest spot in England, with the occasional severe weather warning.
I didn’t get a chance to go and see Bob Lindo at his Camel Valley vineyard, but I can’t imagine he was too thrilled either. It felt more like March, with chilly walks and strong winds, and we didn’t manage to get the children to a sandy beach, not even once.
A Wine Weekend in the Sun
June 30th 2008, by GQ
Another weekend with one wine event after another. On friday evening, after a snoop around the vineyards of Péssac-Léognan, I popped into Bordeaux to take a look at ‘Bordeaux Fête Le Vin’. It was heaving with visitors, mostly enthusiastic amateurs, and it doesn’t surprise me that some 450,000 are reported to have attended this mammoth wine tasting, spread over four sunny days and warm nights from thursday to sunday. The event was staged along the recently restored quays along the river Garonne, in the heart of the city and was, from what I could see, a big success.
Some friends who came for our Bauduc Bondholder dinner on saturday night spent more time at the Fête on friday than
I did, and they really enjoyed it. It cost them all of 16 euros for two, including a tasting glass each and more than enough vouchers to enjoy plenty of wine from different stands.
Here’s Dan (below) proudly holding his keepsake – a handy carry case, complete with the glass inside and a natty shoulder strap.
Our Bondholder dinner on saturday was a somewhat smaller event, which was lucky because our local chef pulled out at the last minute. We managed to cobble something together in time, principally by roping Dan and Zella into helping us out in the kitchen in return for a bed for the night. The dinner was memorable for the lovely, balmy evening, our Bauduc rosé cocktail beforehand and some interesting discourse between an academic, a surgeon, a shipping baron and the UK marketing director for Google. The latter came up with the best suggestion when we discussed what to buy godchildren and grandchildren as presents: domaine names (fullname.coms, not estates in Burgundy) and fine wine for laying down. Later on, Hugh the surgeon talked about the importance of the Miami Breast Conference, but after too much Trois Hectares 05 red we couldn’t take him too seriously.
La Gazette in La Poste
June 19th 2008, by GQ
We hosted a Bondholder dinner here at the château on saturday night, and a family of Bondholders (that is, one with two generations of Bondholders) rented the farmhouse for the week. Unfortunately, they had to leave earlier than planned but were at pains to point out that it had nothing to do with our cooking. It was a pity, because the garden is glorious when the sun is shining, and the heated pool looks seriously inviting.
But, as it was now free, we put the house to good use. This is the week of sending out the Gazette, at long last, so the small task of stuffing nearly 4000 envelopes was carried out here. I think this may have to be the last time of sending out a personalised covering letter, now that Angela refuses to sign any letters, as she has a recurring problem with her shoulder and shows symptons of repetitive stress syndrome. As a result, the signing count was Angela 22, me 3867. Of course, we should use automated signatures, but I have an aversion to them.