“Sod the wine, I want to suck on the writing. This man White is an instinctive writer, bloody rare to find one who actually pulls it off, as in still gets a meaning across with concision. Sharp arbitrage of speed and risk, closest thing I can think of to Cicero’s ‘motus continuum animi.’

Probably takes a drink or two to connect like that: he literally paints his senses on the page.”

DBC Pierre (Vernon God Little, Ludmila’s Broken English, Lights Out In Wonderland ... Winner: Booker prize; Whitbread prize; Bollinger Wodehouse Everyman prize; James Joyce Award from the Literary & Historical Society of University College Dublin)





06 February 2012


"It’s a chill bright sunshine-cum-grey squally sort of day in the Barossa, and I look out the window at the pruners in their wet weather gear, giving the precious Greenock Creek Cabernet its annual haircut."

This was the opening line of a DRINKSTER piece last winter, about Constellation or  Heavens Above or Milky Whey or whoever they were, becoming Clap Wines or Claque or whatever it is.  I'm fascinated by the vast number of hits this story attracts from people searching for references to the Latin word cum, as in cum grano salis, but in an unusual association with drinking. Maybe they're simply too jittery to drink alone.  Strange.  My term for obscenely wasteful vineyard irrigators, Big Squirters, is also very popular amongst some searchers, who never seem to stay long once they've lobbed.  So to jack up the volume at the risk of shortening the duration, I thought I should offer a wholesome Christian image lest any dear reader happens to take any of the above with a pillar of salt. Perhaps we should bring this meditation to a close by joining together in praise as we sing that beautiful old Charlotte Elliot hymn, Oh Lamb of God, I come, I come.


Dawn said...

I love that hymn.

Rube said...

The Daily Wine News is sure to run with that one Whitey

Sal said...

Laughing. A lot.

Will Shakepaw said...