Never before have I come across a wine so obviously created for me as this one.
I haven’t tasted it, and I’ve never seen it for sale. But just look at the label: it’s called pro-mis-Q-ous, a deliberate mis-spelling of “promiscuous” that substitutes in and emphasises the letter Q (which, of course, is my surname). The label goes on to define promiscuity, and it – and their website, makes significant mention on nonmonogamy, which few will by surprised to hear is pretty close to my heart too.
[this post was lost during a server failure on Sunday 11 July 2004; it was finally (partially) recovered on 12 October 2018]
Unable to find our corkscrew and wishing to open a bottle of wine, Paul and Claire had tried all kinds of tricks to dig out – or at least push right in – the cork, but with no success. When they weren’t looking, I used a screwdriver wrapped in a tea-towel to push the cork through. Then, with a marvellous bit of slight-of-hand, said that I’d seen somebody remove one by air pressure before, and slapped the top of the bottle, hard: then, looking almost surprised that it worked, showed them the bottle with the cork bobbing around on the surface of the wine.
Not for a moment did Paul or Claire suspect that I’d removed the cork by any other means than by striking the top of the bottle. How strong do they think I am? By my reckoning, to use something as relatively flat as a hand to produce enough air pressure to push a cork into a wine bottle would probably take sufficient force that the wine bottle itself would be likely to break.
Better than that, they then went on – I overheard – to explain my feat to Bryn when he appeared with the corkscrew he had …
Last night was fun. After spending most of a day hacking into the BBC’s weather centre (I wanted a weather forecast XML stream, but couldn’t find a free one, so with Kit’s help I stole one instead), he, Claire (recently returned) and I went down to the beach after midnight with a bottle of Caern O’Moor Bramble Wine and enjoyed the first cool air the town has seen in most of a week.
I had a wierd dream last night. Apparently, so did Kit. Must’ve been something in the wine.