On Monday I am going into hospital to have a hiatus hernia fixed. Apparently I’ll be in for five to seven days, so there will be no wine notes for the period I am incarcerated. I’ll be looking forward to my first glass of wine when I escape.
I am an terribly charming loony, supremely well-endowed with epidemiology and wine qualifications, who has finally found that severe PTSD, Generalised Anxiety Disorder and chronic psychosis are, on one of my all too rare good days, only a moderate impediment to having crazy fun with wine and food. Catch me outside and I am liable to be loudly attired.