The Sage and I went to a wine tasting this evening. It was a lovely evening in fact, at the Yacht Club in Lowestoft. I’ve been a member *forever*, the Sage since he moved to Lowestoft in 1968 (in fact, my membership in the book dates from the date I turned 18, but I was a junior member from small childhood). They can’t have made a lot of money from it, they were pouring reasonably expensive wines (from £11.50 to £19.00 a bottle) in generous half-glassfuls (unless you stopped them), and there were eight of them, and plates of substantial and beautifully cooked tapas came along, a different plateful, each with two different items on, per wine, and we paid £18 each.
I did drive home. And yes, I was perfectly fit to. I limited myself to three sips (not gulps) of each wine and I doubt I drank a standard glassful in the whole evening. I, the Sage and our friend were, I suspect, the most sober persons in the room. We were certainly the most sober people at our table.
I learned my lesson a very long time ago, when I went to a wine tasting with cheese. I can drink, or eat high fat food, I can’t do both with impunity. I also learned that, when you’re drinking a part-glass of several different wines, you can’t keep track of the total. So, even if I hadn’t been driving, I’d not have had much more than I did.
Earlier in the day, I did a large flower arrangement to help decorate the church for Harvest Festival, then helped serve teas after a funeral (my friend Brenda did most of the work, I just lent a hand) and then took boxes of fruit and vegetables and arranged them around the church. Some churches, I know, discourage gifts of fresh produce and prefer tins and packets of food to be given. I find that dispiriting. I take potatoes, carrots, apples, pears, tomatoes and so on. Proper harvested food. The village schoolchildren will take them round to elderly people in the village after the weekend, each with a bunch of flowers.