No wine untasted

No wine untasted

No wine untasted 

2012 got off to a sedate start. I woke mid morning, drank the bottle of Diet Coke that I had strategically placed next to the bed the evening before and went back to sleep for an hour or so. After a shower and a late breakfast I met up with Claire and we went for a walk. We were both surprisingly chipper given the amount of alcohol we had consumed the night before. It was a nice sunny day so we headed for the Botanical Gardens, taking in Mrs Macquarie’s Chair and getting some nice shots looking back at the Harbour Bridge and Opera House. To look at the park you wouldn’t have known that only 12 hours before the place had been packed with thousands of people. They certainly cleaned up well and quickly.

We found ourselves at the Opera House so decided to stop in at the Opera Bar for a quick beer, our first drink of 2012. It went down slowly but it went down. We decided to take a ferry from Circular Quay to Darling Harbour. It was a nice ride despite it being very crowded and some rather rude locals pushing their way to the front, thinking that they didn’t need to queue behind all the tourists. We had ice cream and a slow walk back to Em’s place. Claire was headed out for dinner, I passed on joining her, opting for an early night instead. I woke the next morning to a message from Em. The place we had been staying in belonged to one of Em’s friends. Em had thought that they were returning on the 3rd but it turned out they were returning today. That meant I needed to be packed and out before my early morning tour pick up. It also left me homeless for my final evening in Sydney. I sent Dave a message, hoping that he was awake early. Luckily he was. He said that I could return to their place for my final night and that he would look after my luggage if Em could drop it off. Em said that she would drop my case off at Dave's for me. I thanked them both profusely. 

When the tour bus collected me there was only one seat left in the back and I settled in to it, saying good morning to my fellow passengers. There was a Scottish family of four and a group of seven American boys who, based on my initial assessment on how they looked and dressed, were all straight. As we headed out of Sydney we stopped to pick up Claire who had to ride in the passenger seat up front. Our driver, Keith, gave us a bit of commentary on the way up, making jokes that even I cringed at. He explained how the day would work in terms of timings and where we would be going. The company had to visit two large commercial vineyards on the trip but the driver got to decide where else we would stop. Keith said he had chosen a couple of nice smaller wineries for us to go to. We stopped on the way out to the Hunter Valley for some breakfast. I went and got a couple of coffees while Claire found us a table. The family she was staying with had insisted on providing a picnic for us to take on our wine tasting tour. Included in the hamper were a couple of homemade muffins for breakfast.  

We arrived at our first winery, Savannah Estate, around 10am. I said to Claire that it seemed a little early to be drinking wine, even for me. She said we weren’t drinking wine we were tasting wine and there was a difference. I didn’t argue. The guy at the vineyard had us all lined up along a bar, he was behind it pulling out a couple of different bottles ready for the tasting. As he opened the first bottle he turned to us and said “I think the best way to start the morning is with a nice Semillon”. I started giggling. If you don’t know why I giggled try saying the sentence out loud. When the guy said Semillon for the second time minutes later I giggled again. The mother and daughter from the Scottish family both looked at me, Claire was shaking her head. I think they realised why I was laughing. We got to sample several of the wines, Claire studiously made notes on what she liked and what they tasted like. I just drank them.

The second vineyard on our trip was Cockfighter’s Ghost. Yes, I giggled at the name although I had already heard of the vineyard as when I had been staying with Dave and Brian, Brian had bought some of their wine purely because of the name. As luck would have it we started our second wine tasting with a Semillon. I laughed before the woman doing the tasting had even said it. Claire was laughing at my laughing and the Scottish family all knew why I was laughing. The American boys who were down the opposite end looked a little bemused by what was going on. I knew that it wasn’t that funny but once I had the giggles I couldn’t stop. I had to walk away from the bar for a while in order to regain my composure. One of the Americans called down to Claire and asked if I was alright. She said it depended on your definition of alright.

Our third stop was to a big commercial winery called Tempus Two. The only memorable thing was that the guy serving us wine bore an uncanny resemblance to Matt Lucas. This prompted the non-Americans on the tour to say things like “I want that one” and “I’m the only gay in the village”, although I wasn’t the person who said the latter. After the wine we got to go on a little tasting tour of the Smelly Cheese Shop next door. It was fairly busy and one of the Americans got separated from his little group and ended up being stood next to me and Claire. I turned to her and said “Now's your chance, one has strayed from the herd. Pick him off like a cheetah singling out the slow gazelle”. Claire struck up conversation with him asking him where he was from and how he knew the others. They turned out to all be Harvard students, on Christmas break, and doing a little tour of New Zealand and Australia. I was waiting for Claire to ask “So how many of your group are single?” but we had to be back on the bus and the stray gazelle found his way back to the herd.

The fourth stop on the tour was where we had lunch. As everyone else headed to the café, Claire and I found a nice grassy bank in the sun to sit out on. Claire unpacked the picnic hamper and we tucked in to the array of home baked goodies that had been sent along. We got to have a taste of some of the wines before we headed back on to the bus. Our final vineyard was the Tintilla Estate. We were shown to a large table outside on the patio which was thankfully in the shade. Having now spent the day together and having sampled a fair amount of wine the group finally was chatting all together. As we worked our way down the wines on the tasting we got to a Semillon. I giggled, Claire giggled and the mother and daughter from the Scottish family giggled. One of the Americans finally asked outright what I was giggling at. I tried to explain but couldn’t for laughing, the end of my explanation becoming more high-pitched before I broke down into laughter. Claire helped me out, telling them that I was amused by the word Semillon. A few of the Americans finally got it with Claire’s slow, deliberate pronuniciation.  A few of them still looked baffled, one asking “What is a semi-on?”. The Scottish boy piped up with a matter of fact explanation that settled any ambiguity.

After finishing our final wine tasting we all headed back to the minibus for the return trip to Sydney. I was feeling a little tipsy, the collective sips of the tasting probably amounting to at least six glasses of wine over the course of the day. Keith explained that he would not be giving us any commentary on the way back to Sydney as he had done it all on the way up, meaning that we could have a snooze if we wanted to. One of the Americans was soon fast asleep and snoring rather loudly. Claire was first to be dropped off and it would be the last time I would be seeing her for a couple of months so I got up from my seat so we could have a hug goodbye before she got out of the minibus. This got a chorus of “aaaahs” from the Americans. The Scottish family were next, getting out at their hotel. I had asked the driver to drop me near the Opera House rather than where he had picked me up as I was meeting some people there for drinks. We pulled up near the Opera House and I said goodbye to the Americans. As I opened the door one of them shouted “I’ll think of you every time I have a Semillon”. I nearly died.

 “No wine untasted” 
Lyrics from I Dreamed a Dream from the musical Les Miserables