I understand only two kinds of wine. Wine I like and wine I don’t like. Which is why I’m not the kind of guy you should invite to a Wine Club gathering. I’ll head straight for the cheese and crackers rather than sip something that reminds me of the taste of iron window-grilles after a shower. (What, you never licked the grilles, say when you were about 5 years old?) The rest will gargle softly with half-open mouths, hold their glasses up to the light and talk about “legs” and “body”. Excuse me? Those are terms I associate with Jamie Lee Curtis, not with glorified fruit vinegar. And at my age, it’s a health hazard to even think of tasting her. (It doesn't help that she once said "In some circles, my Caesar salad is more famous than my body." I LOVE a good Caesar salad. Oh well.) 
I like some whites. (I’m referring to wine here, I must hasten to add.) But you know what I reelly reelly like? Sweet wines. Dessert wines. A good port, sherry, most of all a good Tokay. The last is something I can’t afford (hopeful look at the gentle reader, hint hint, and I wouldn’t mind if you throw in some good pipe tobacco as well), but I do still have some Cockburn’s and some genuine tawny (from Lisboa, no less, though aged in the cupboard and not the cask). So this winter, when my friends flock back to Cal for the Christmas vacation, I shall serve them whisky.
And keep ALL the nice sweet wine for myself!
 She also stars in one of my all-time favourite films.
 YAY! Links AND footnotes, I’m getting back to Serious Blogging!