I have been a Julian Clary fan for a very long time – his risque style and outrageous campness were real eye-openers when he first leapt onto our TV screens in the 80’s, accompanied by ‘Fanny the Wonder Dog’. Everything was (at least) a double entendre, and the first instalment of his autobiography, ‘A Young Man’s Passage’ was eye streamingly funny. But I had never seen him live until a couple of weeks ago. Julian graced the stage at Swindon’s Wyvern Theatre, (his home town) for 2 nights and was one of the most entertaining ‘acts’ I have come across in a long time. In my advancing age, I am starting to prefer comedians who can be funny without being offensive and swearing with every other word – there are lots who fit into this category – Bill Bailey, Jack Dee, Peter Kaye, Michael McIntyre and further back in time, Frankie Howard, Kenneth Williams. And some who seem to be becoming more cringe-making with every outing – Ricky Gervais leading the pack here, but Ross Noble coming up close behind, (ooh er Missus). Anyway, I digress. Julian was a real hoot. I didn’t stop laughing all night long – he has a rich stream of stories, some great facial expressions and just enough of the old ‘mince’ to remind us that camp never stops being funny. It must be comedy season, because some really interesting comedy names are doing the rounds at the moment, (Christmas DVD anybody)? I was very disappointed to learn that I’d missed Sean Hughes by a couple of days and the aforementioned Ricky Gervais got as close as Oxford – though the couple of people who reported seeing him were disappointed and at times felt very uncomfortable with his content, (I really do sound like the most boring person on earth, sorry).

Anyway, I also saw ‘The Vagina Monologues’, I didn’t really know what to expect, (though they have been doing the rounds for a long time) and my best summary would be ‘interesting’. Corrie’s Sally Lindsay was the best known ‘face’, accompanied by Lisa someone from Emmerdale and another actress from Hollyoaks, which I have never seen. They all did an excellent job – and the material – based on real research with women – is at times both challenging and emotional. There were plenty of laughs, but interspersed with some much deeper stories that really got my mind churning.

I’ve always wanted to see Omid Djalili live, so I am hoping he’ll be around soon!!!

Apologies – but my computer is doing starange things and I can’t attach the photos of Julian that I wanted to – will try and figure it out soon!

 

 

 

I’m not sure whether I was always entranced with the idea of balloon flight, but ever since the ‘Nimble’ bread ad in the 1970’s I have been determined to go up in one. In fact, I mithered so much, that my Lovely Husband very generously made me a present of a ride for my Christmas present last year. What I hadn’t realised, was that HE wouldn’t be coming – ‘get me in a balloon, I should Co-Co’, were pretty much his words as I recall. Step to the rescue LOVELY LAURA – who gamely said she’d come along. Wait a few months, (too cold, too dark, too wet before Easter) and then make a booking. You’d think it would be easy really, but after several false starts, (terrible weather conditions virtually all summer long), the added complication of another person wanting to join us – so now 3 diaries to synchronise before booking – my lovely friend Laura and I finally took to the skies on September 18th). Sadly, friend Carole was on the waiting list and didn’t get a place, a real shame, as 2 people didn’t turn up on the day.

The notion that ’she flies through the air with the greatest of ease’ might have been true of the balloon and of the ‘Nimble’ lady, but the word ‘nimble’ didn’t exactly apply to me as I entered and exited the basket. Said basket is actually about 5ft high, and as I am only 5′4″, it was quite a heave in – I managed to get in with a minor amount of embarrassment, getting out again was a different matter, but more of that later.

Maybe I’m a bit dim, but I didn’t realise that the pilot has virtually NO control over the direction of the balloon – I know you have to go where the wind blows, but always imagined that the hot air machine thing helped – sadly not. Of all the directions in all the world, due west out of Lydiard Park, Swindon – straight along the M4, was probably the least interesting route we could have been blown!!! I was hoping for over Old Town and a chance to spot our respective houses, or out towards Marlborough – which at least has beautiful countryside – but the motorway was an almost constant drone and the most fun we had was waving to a few people as we drifted quite low over a few rooftops at the edge of Wootton Bassett. After that, it was cows, sheep, a few horses and what may or may not have been either alpaca or llamas – it was difficult to tell. Our pilot John Albury, with over 35 years experience of flying a balloon, warned us to treat it as an ‘adventure’ - being women of the world, Laura and I rightly interpreted this to mean “don’t moan when we land in a field miles from nowhere and despite having paid hundred of pounds for the ride you’ll be expected to help pack the balloon up”. The balloon was much bigger than I had imagined – even though I have seen one close up before – and it got packed into an amazingly small bag considering. But I’m jumping to the end again.

The balloon riders were a very motley crew! It’s quite a ‘couply’ thing to do, and there were indeed 4 ‘proper’ couples, (Mr and Mrs ‘Let’s order everyone around’ from Oxford, who made me bristle somewhat, though I managed to mostly ignore them, plus me and Laura and two ‘odd’ men – one much odder than the other! One of the lone men was on a birthday present from his family, and they had all turned up to see him off, the other, who didn’t really speak much only revealed at the end that his wife was waiting for him in the car park back at Lydiard Park – some 4 hours after arrival and take-off and now pitch black - poor woman!

Delights of the M4 aside, we came in to land in a field edged by a river on one side and the motorway on the other – we took heart from the fact that there were bales of hay in the field, (must be accessible by a lorry or trailer, said those in the know) and sat and waited for the land-rover to come and pick us up – it supposedly had us ‘in visual range’ all the way, but that didn’t mean it was easy to find us!  And there were a number of obstackles between us and it – not least locked gates, missing farmers, (to ask permission of) and a river with no bridge for miles.  We landed at 6.30pm, the basket was on quite a tilt, it was a very smooth landing I thought, two small bumps and then stop, no tipping over or anything, (though it may have been easier to get out if we’d been on our backs). After a couple of somewhat ungainly attempts to exit the balloon, (which was at an angle, and harder to get out of than it was to get in to), we all mooched around the field for a bit and then set-to on wrapping the balloon up. Most people helped, some just tried to organise, (Mr & Mrs from Oxford again). A lot of air gets trapped in the balloon, so we engaged a number of the party in the task of rolling on the bundled up cloth to get rid of the air. This done, we waited. And waited. And waited some more. It was now virtually dark and the land-rover hove into view at about 7.40pm, a quick glass of champers and then much heaving and panting to get the balloon into its bag and onto the trailer. Finally, the basket went onto the trailer as well, and everybody was asked to get back in the basket for the ride back to the bus which would take us home. I opted to sit in the ‘landy’ with the driver – much easier than attempting the basket again!!!! Turns out we were between Sutton Benger and the motorway and a little coach was waiting for us in the car park of a local pub. Sadly, no time for a pint and we set off back to Lydiard – where we finally arrived at 9.00pm.  An adventure? Sort of. Not sure I’d rush for another go, it was all a bit of a palaver I thought!  Liked the ride, just not the waiting bit!

The one surprise of the trip – absolutely zero vertigo – for some reason, there’s no sense of height at all from the basket. Oh, and another surprise, the intrepid nation that we are, there are several outdoor swimming pools attached to the big houses in the Wiltshire country-side – I wonder how much use they get?

 

 

Lovely Husband and I were treated to lunch at Abergavenny’s finest pub/restaurant – The Hardwick – (over the August Bank Holiday), check it out at http://www.thehardwick.co.uk/background/

Although I’d checked out the (now re-vamped) website, I hadn’t realised that it was owned and run by Stephen Terry, (who I recognised from the in-house publicity material as from the Great British Menu). I now know that Stephen has had a career full of big names, big restaurants and early success, (winning his first Michelin star aged only 25).  But on to the food - overall, lunch was great – but I am not sure that Michelin prices in a Welsh country pub are completely justifiable. Whatever the pricing policy, the place was jam-packed, and at least 3 sittings seemed in evidence for lunch. We had opted to sit-down later, which at least meant we weren’t rushed. My starter of ‘Trealy Farm Cured Meat & Salami Board with Antipasti at £9.95′ was tasty, but not worth a tenner in my view, the main course of ‘Roast Rib of Herefordshire Beef with Yorkshire Pudding, Roast Potatoes, Seasonal Vegetables and Gravy £14.50, was very popular – I would say that about 80% of the diners were plumping for it – obviously a local speciality – but disappointing in delivery – the beef was scrumptious, the roasties were pretty good, but the vegetables that were supplied for 3 out of the 4 diners at our table were meagre and unexciting to say the least – an oval ramekin – of a size more usual for a single serving, contained some carrots, cauliflower and broccoli……………… what happened to the local specialties? Surely some cabbage or greens, late asparagus or even Jerusalem artichokes would have been better than something which looked and tasted as if it had been knocked up at home for a mid-week supper.

I am a sucker for a cheese board, and totally in keeping, I went for ‘‘Perl Wen, Colston Basset Stilton, Neals Yard Creamery Ragstone Goats Cheese, Gorwydd Caerphilly, Bishops Blessing, Cotswold Blue, Hafod Welsh Organic Cheddar, Ticklemore Goats Cheese, Shepton, Celtic Promise and Caws Mynydd Du (local sheep’s milk cheese from Talgarth)’, which for £8.50 sounds fab, but some of the pieces were very small indeed.

So, I’ll leave it to you to decide if you think it’s worth a visit or not – some of the dishes were absolutely inspired – the desserts especially…………..

 

Overall, if it had been half the price, I’d have been pleased with it, but as things stand, I can’t help but feel we were over-charged for the privilege of being cooked for by Stephen, (if, indeed he was there, there wasn’t any sign of him or any other chefs). I don’t like to complain, especially as we were being so very kindly treated, but a meal at one of my favourite places, Caldesi in Campagna, just the other day, reinforced the concept of quality and value very keenly – more of that meal in another post!!!

Well reader, I’m back – although not for long, I am busy, I am obviously NOT the only busy person in the world – but right now, those around me to be going at a pace that’s somewhat slower than mine – at least, that’s how I feel at the moment.

So what have I been doing?  Anything exciting?  Well, yes, just back from another quick flit to Italy to see if we can find the property of our dreams in which to start a cookery school.  Sadly, we couldn’t.  A very promising looking place turned out to be surrounded by NOISE – loud noise – although the house was snuggled in a nice little fold at the foothills of the Dolomites, the wall of mountain not far behind it seemed to bounce back every sound that came up the valley – frequent trains sounded as if they were about to pull up beneath the balcony and the traffic sounds from a fairly distant road sounded much closer.  Biggest shame of all is that someone, somewhere had decided that what this medieval town really needed on its doorstep was a series of bright blue industrial buildings – the scar of cleared out land and the buildings themselves clearly visible from the main garden and balconies.  Not what you hope for when paying out for a luxury cookery school, or at least, certainly not what I’d hope for in those circumstances.  So that was a ‘no’. 

The second place was always going to be a bit left-field – a late entrant on the Lucy & Mike visit list, the bar/tabbaco shop/coffee shop/restaurant belonged to the cousin of a friend of a friend whose wife is Italian.  But hey ho, it gave us an entertaining evening and counting the huge, black summer flying beetles, (only a problem for 2 weeks per year apparently) kept us entertained in the middle of nowhere.

We managed a very flying visit to Verona – a city I have been lucky to visit a few times in the past for opera at the wornderful open-air arena, it was as beautiful as I recall, although the presence of quite a few Roman, (or maybe Veronan) soldiers cheekily posing for photos, (only 50 Euros madam), in the Piazza was a touch I could have done without.  Especially as a few of them seemed determined to push into a photo whether they were wanted or not.

Also managed a wonderful day in Venice before our late flight home – fabulous weather and my Lovely Husband’s constant delight with the Palazzo’s and churches and galleries that he was seeing for the first time made it especially enjoyable.  Less so the bill for 2 small beers on St Mark’s Square – I know, I know, we never should have even sat down – but really Euros 28 is outrageous for 2 x 33cl beers – we ate dry bread the rest of the day.

Arrividerci for now everyone!

Friend of a friend Maddie, (see her blog at http://worldfrommywindow.blogspot.com/) has just posted her review of The Wild Garlic, Masterchef winner Mat Follas’s restaurant in Beaminster. It was Lovely Husband’s birthday earlier in the week and I had booked us a table for lunch. It’s a 2 and a half hour trek from Swindon -so not for the faint hearted, but well worth the visit and the tortuous and crawling traffic through Crewkerne – another time, I’ll definitely find a better route.

First impressions of the place were good – light, airy, not at all pretentious, (not that I was expecting it to be, but some places surprise), loved the wooden tables with sayings carved around the edges, but frustrated not to read all of them as it would have been just plain rude to get up and stare at all 4 sides – especially in the laps of other diners! A great intrigue though. Initially, I was a bit disappointed with the (short) length of the lunch menu, but at least it made choosing easy! I was delighted with my sweet chilli squid, soft, melt in the mouth and great sprinkles of flower petals and very tasty leaves and LH praised his tomato and basil soup very highly. The mains were the star of the show, with my whole plaice coated with butter and caper sauce an instant hit – fresh, beautifully cooked and very hot as it came to the table – I dislike warm fish – this must have come literally from under the grill. The accompanying potato salad and salad leaves were delicious – I would definitely recommend it. I don’t mind eating my fish on the bone, but I noticed a couple of people asking for theirs to be removed from the bone by the Maitre D’, which was done with good grace. LH had the Water Buffalo burger – tasty, filling and an unusual taste – beef-like, but definitely different – he enjoyed it tremendously. Desserts were a dream, I had Mat’s Lavender ice cream – which I could eat and eat and eat, such a delicate flavour – served with a piece of shortbread; LH got his Dorset Apple cake with a birthday candle in it – delivered by Mat himself, (I had mentioned it was his birthday when I booked, so lovely to be remembered) and was suitably embarrassed. We had a very nice bottle of New Zealand sparkling Lindauer to accompany the food – truth be told, I could easily have sat and had another, but we had to go! We’ll be back – it was worth the trip and a very reasonable £65 including the wine.

Can’t wait to go back for dinner – must get my booking in – maybe for Christmas!!!!

Well, another SCD line-up is announced and either I’m losing touch or the ‘celebrities’ really aren’t that well known. A very handy review at

http://www.mirror.co.uk/celebs/news/2009/08/26/strictly-come-dancing-we-rate-the-contestants-chances-on-the-dancefloor-this-year-115875-21624810/ at least includes pictures as well as descriptions of the stars. Good to see Linda Bellingham in there – I’ve always liked her and she is far more than just ‘the Oxo mum’ in my view – not that that has ever done her much harm! Also, good to see the lovely looking (if not quite untouched) Jo Wood, (ex-wife of Ronnie, who dumped her for a younger model) strutting her stuff with the somewhat over-inflated Brendan Coles. I never watched Footballer’s Wives, so don’t know Laila Rouass – but she looks as though she just might be able to dance – which would be an overdue bonus for the toothsome and sparkly Anton Du Beke – it’s about time he wasn’t palmed off with the most wooden female they could find in a large radius. My friend ‘Curious Girl’ (see link to her website on right hand side of this blog), is lamenting the line-up, but I recall being disappointed with the line-up announcement in previous years – only to feel I know all of them like old friends by the time we’re a few weeks in, AND developing firm favourites. I am sure this year will be no different.

And we haven’t even touched on losing Arlene, (very sorry to see her go – but how is it ageist to sack her when Brucie is still hanging in there), gaining Aleesha, (a lovely girl I thought based on her appearance on the show, great dancer, but no match for the Craig Revel-Horwood’s of this world) and occasional visits from Darcey Bussell, (I mean, ballet, really).  There’ll be more after the first show.

So, now it’s official – it really is nearly Christmas.

 

Do you make good decisions? Do you make decisions at all? I am sure some of you have known occasional times of organisational paralysis and have despaired of anyone ever making a decision again. When I used to work at Intel we had a mandatory class on ‘Decision Making’ and well understood ways of making a decision – I’m not saying we always stuck to it, but I do think it’s good to have a framework that everyone knows and can refer to. In fact, so good was I at making decisions back then, that I was even an approved trainer for the class – and was able to pass on my wisdom to new recruits into the company who were forced to attend a class within, (I think) the first 3 months of working there. Some classes had to be attended within the first week or month – depending on their perceived value to the organisation – it may sound rather boarding school-like, but it mostly worked.

My current working environment is somewhat different and mindful that I want to stay in employment for some little while to come, I ought not to say too much more……………. except that today I made a decision – all alone and it was WRONG, (so I was told afterwards, by my previously unavaialble boss). So, I made enquiries to see if I could over-turn the decision I had made and return to the original position – and there was GOOD NEWS!!! I could, (with some not inconsiderable good will by a 3rd party I would like to add). So, I did. BUT……….. no sooner had I issued the ‘as you were’ instruction. I was told to undo it – putting us back in the position of sticking with my original decision – which, though still WRONG, was being ‘lived with’ by the powers that be. Red face for me as I had to impose even more on the now thinly stretched goodwill of aforementioned 3rd party and a bad feeling ever since as I think my decision probably was wrong, but it was at least a decision at the time – and the best in the circumstances available. Sorry, I know this is convoluted, but I need to get it off my chest!!!!

Now, we’re not talking life and death here, we’re talking about something much more mundane – an advert to be precise. But there are some political ramifications that I believed I was mitigating with my original choice and I still think my decision makes sense. Only problem is we now have at least 3 unhappy people – me, my boss and his boss too. Oh dear

The Italian dream seems to be inching closer, I’ve finally managed to make a bit of time to search for property, mortgages and other bits and pieces that will help me put together a business plan for a new life! I think we are having to accept that despite partaking in an ancient ritual guaranteed to forge a bond between me and the land, we may not be returning to our Tuscan dream property. We just can’t afford it. If it was being sold ‘as is’ then it might be in our price bracket, but the fact that the sellers have managed to secure the almost impossible – firm planning permission for a villa and pool on the generous land surrounding the farmhouse, puts it way beyond our budget. And we just don’t want a villa and pool anyway – it’s been suggested that we buy it and then sell the plot on, but the red tape in Italy makes me shudder before we even start on that one.

My appetite for Italy was whetted all over again with a very quirky new docu-drama that started last night – Dolce Vito – did anyone else see it? The irrepressible and overly optimistic Italian born but English bred, 61 year old Vito, (with fiancee Margarita at his side) has decided to take the best of British food to Italy and open a restaurant there. Apparently a very successful restaurateur from a line started by his father, Vito is fed up with bringing Italian food to the Brits and now wants to try things the other way around!!!! Vito drops some unpasteurised Cheddar off at a local cheese shop in Bologna – 20 out of 21 punters, (and a dog) like it. One man professes that it ’sticks your mouth together like glue. LIKE GLUE!’ (he repeats, just for emphasis). And one housewife refused to even try it – ‘not if it’s British’! I was a tad confused in that he made an offer on the very first place he saw – in Padua I think – but then was seen exploring another place in Florence which he also wanted to buy. I actually heard him being interviewed on the radio a few days ago – and am sure they said that he ended up opening in Bologna – Italy’s well known culinary capital. Perhaps it’s OK in Italy to go round with a film crew and make offers on places you don’t intend to buy – I’ll have to check. nest week’s taster featured plates of Yorkshire Pudding and beef being carried out to a restaurant full of old ladies – I’m not sure this is well thought through. I am very supportive of good food for good food’s sake, but it’s not as if the Italian’s are crying out for better ingredients is it? Entertaining nevertheless.

Still on a foodie theme, I hear that Ainsley Harriott, (my old mate from my heady appearance on Ready Steady Cook) is campaigning to stop us eating so many chips………… Does anyone actually eat chips any more? It’s almost impossible to find a ‘proper’ chippy in Swindon – they are all Chinese or Fried Chicken or even Kebab houses that deign to sell a few chips on the side – not many people I know eat chips very often, (I sometimes cook them at home as a treat – to a Gordon Ramsay recipe from his very first televised ‘cook-a-long’. Lovely, healthy, (they are done in the oven). But not often. I’ll have to stop now, it’s making me want to rush out for tuppence worth of ’scrumps’ and bit of cod – a treat from childhood if ever there was one. And what is a scrump? Any left over bit of batter, potato, fish, sausage or other delicacy left in the fryer at the end of the evening. A bargain!

 

It’s not often I get to spend time with my children. I guess that at 20 and almost 18, they don’t want to hang around with me much – which is a shame, as when they are on form, they can be very entertaining. Younger son and I share some tastes for reading and comedy and last night we had a great time watching some stuff from the ‘catch up’ channel on cable TV. Michael McIntyre is everywhere at the moment, but watching a re-run of the first of his roadshows – from Edinburgh – had me in stitches – I missed it the first time round and not only was he funny but his guests were top quality too – if you get a chance to see Mark Watson, (available on Youtube apparently) at all, I highly recommend his quirky style. Well worth the time to watch it again. Interesting that both of them found fame at the Edinburgh Festival – I have never been and every year forget all about it until it’s too late, maybe next year.

Moving on from the here and now, we watched a ‘classic’ Victoria Wood in front of a very bouffant 1980’s audience – Wincey Willis anyone? Liza Goddard, a very young looking Julie Walters, Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders all featured and Joan Bakewell playing the game with a well timed question about whether it was a disadvantage to have big breasts? ‘Yes, I imagine it is if you’re a heavyweight boxer’, replied Victoria, which seemed very funny at the time. Even though YS had no idea who most of the ‘celebrities’ were/are, (Adam from Crossroads in the front row – or maybe his name was Adam in real life – I can’t remember either), a bespectacled Maureen Lipman, Kevin from Corrie…… the comedy was still entertaining and funny and just proves that humour is timeless when done well.

We followed Victoria with an old (ish) episode of ‘Have I got news for you’, which I freely admit is one of my favourites, I have always wanted to meet Paul Merton and Ian Hislop in person and find out if they really are that witty in real life, or whether it is all terribly rehearsed and forced. I sometimes catch Paul Merton on Radio 4’s ‘Just a minute’, which may also be edited of course, it’s difficult to tell. I love his quick repartee though and am sure it’s natural. The show was guest hosted by Anne Widdicombe – who treated the panellists like naughty schoolchildren – you could see how much it rankled with Ian and Paul – but they were pretty tolerant of her and managed to get some sneaky digs in which were very entertaining. Guests were Jimmy Carr who was on good form – he can be too crude for me at times, and a guitarist from Blur, (or maybe Pulp), never seen him before anyway.

Nothing like a laugh to cheer one up!!!! Lovely husband has gone away with his children this week and I am missing him already

 

Hi Everyone!

Well, freshly back for a small sojourn in Champagne with 4 of my close drinking buddies, (no, sorry, I mean discerning wine tasters) there are a number of things I have to report:

NOT all champagnes are the same – now, I knew that before and I’m sure you did too, but now I know WHY they aren’t all the same – it’s all do to with the grape mixture. There are 3 grapes used in the making of champagne – Chardonnay, a white (green) grape with white juice, Pinot Noir a red grape with white juice and Pinot Meuniere, another red grape with white juice. All the grapes MUST be grown in the designated champagne area of northern France otherwise, it’s NOT champagne – only ‘method traditionelle’ – like Cava, Prosecco, Sekt and so on. By the way, not all champagne have all the grapes in them either – it depends and it’s variable by Champagne ‘house’, more of that later.

I have long been a fan of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin – but I never knew that ‘veuve’ means ‘widow’ in French. Named after the feisty, go-getting ‘widow of Monsieur Clicquot’ and further described by her maiden name, Ponsardin – this famous Champagne house was built by the single handed determination of a 27 year old widow who decided that after losing her beloved husband to a mystery illness, aged only 30, (probably cancer, but not diagnosed or treatable in those days) she would build the business in his memory and would be faithful only to the grape – and never married again – despite many offers that increased along with her wealth, (I wonder why that was)!! The vintage ‘Grand Dame’ champagne is a single harvest, Chardonnay only champagne. All bottles of Veuve Clicquot carry a portrait of the widow on their caps.  Unfortunately, no one seems to have captured the widow’s image as a young woman – the portraits that grace the walls at Veuve Clicquot HQ are all of her as a much older woman, (she lived to be 89 – quite an achievement for a woman in the late 18th century – especially one who liked a tipple!  I also admire Mme Clicquot for NOT leaving her business empire to her feckless daughter and son-in-law, but instead leaving it to a German employee of 20 years standing who she knew would be a good bsuiness bet!  Amazingly, daughter and son-in-law continued to work as ‘ambassadors’ for the brand, (presumably with a good pay off) but couldn’t get their mitts on the main money – just as well, as son-in-law was an inveterate gambler.

I now know why I don’t like Moet and Chandon, (sorry, Moet lovers) – it’s because they use the Pinot Meuniere grape much more than most other houses – a short-lasting, honey and toasty toned grape that leaves a strange after taste, (on my tongue at least) that I find unpleasant and unpleasing to drink. Excellent caves at Moet though – all the caves we visited were 20 metres underground and stayed at a constant 10-12 degrees C all year round. All champagne grapes are grown on chalk and limestone – which means they don’t need watering and can survive both drought and wet conditions – the former because the ground retains water the latter because it only retains so much and the underlying water table has enough height to rise. ‘Moet’ is one of the most mis-pronounced champagne names – because there is an accent on the ‘e’, it’s ‘Moette’, not ‘Moay’.

Other biggie wevisited was Taittinger – not a champagne I have consumed much of, and I won’t be running to start now – it left a burning sensation on the back of my throat, (also noted by 2 or my other buddies) that I can do without – another blend containing a lot of Pinots Noir and Meuniere.

I could carry on but it’ll start to sound repetitive – visit the cave, taste the champagne, buy the champagne, drink some more. The big houses were lovely – all very corporate, (especially Veuve which even brands it’s underground lighting in pink and orange – the house colours), all very professional – but most fun were the independent growers – especially recommended is the lovely Jackie Simonet – we stopped at Jackie’s little place quite at random – in the town of Villers-Marmery, on the champagne trail – we were greeted by Jackie himself – a lovely man – grey haired, rugged, tanned, with a real sparkle in his eye and a fabulous champagne which he sells to the public for a very modest 13 Euros a bottle. Not only that, but Jackie is one of Veuve’s selected ’special contract’ growers – so his own blend is very similar to the widow’s brew – at a fraction of the price – that’s a find if ever there was one!!! If you’re interested, Jackie is stocked by a small wine merchant in Monmouth – http://www.pinotnoir.co.uk/default.asp sadly, not at Jackie’s home grown prices – but still pretty competitive.

Another smaller house we visited was Gobillard & Fils – lovely vintage champers at under 20 Euros a bottle – we just had to buy a few – would have been rude not to!  And guess what?  Champagne doesn’t explode if you put it into your checked-in baggage – I always thought it did – but allowed myself to be convinced otherwise and risked a few bottles in the suitcase – and safe they were, (till I got them home and just had to try them out and see how they travelled)

On the champagne trail is a very appropriately named village, called Bouzy – we all stopped for a photo call at that one – I’ll post some photos when I get them sent over from pals – managed to forget my own camera.

The best bit of all? Champagne really doesn’t create a hangover – all 5 of us reported being completely hangover free for the whole 5 day visit – and on a couple of days, we consumed liberally. What better recommendation could there be? Maybe not the best bit, but a treat to top lots of other treats – eating Foie Gras every day for 5 days – I know, a heart attack on a plate – but yummy scrummy!!!!!

Sante!!!