Hoorah. Today is the annual S.I.T.T. tasting at Vinopolis, London’s most boring museum unless you happen to be one of the original shareholders, who must have made an absolute killing on its real estate value. It is a recent addition to the calendar, whereby a large number of independent merchants gather to show their wares, and what a bewildering, eclectic array of wines it is. Practically every country is represented, which can make is overwhelming for someone like me who feels unsatisfied if he has not written a note upon every single wine. Therefore, I focus upon South Africa, Loire, Western Australia and cheaper Bordeaux.
However, I am distracted from my mission by the most magnificent pair of breasts on Stand 33 or 34 (I cannot remember which, my mind was elsewhere.) It is not their capacious, Dolly Parton-esque dimensions. I, for one, would not ban buxom women from any wine tasting, whatsoever. No, it is the fact that they are literally spilling out of her dress. You can feel the tension, that at any moment they may burst out and run out the door, away to their freedom. Sure enough, I notice how predominantly male tasters seem to loiter around this stand more than others, take their time writing their verbose notes. Meanwhile the guys on the opposite stand seem to have trouble pouring accurately i.e. into the glass.
The mammaries have done their purpose.
What next? Berry Brother’s & Rudd sporting in Borat-style mankinis? I shudder at the thought.
I also spot the demonic-looking Ryan Opaz of the highly recommended www.catavino.net who is demonstrating the power of Twitter in some kind of speed tutorial, each potential convert allowed 30 minutes to absorb his social media pearls of wisdom. At one point I stand behind him as he shows someone how to use Tweetdeck and since Ryan is one of my followers, I am tempted to Tweet something obscene to see his reaction as it pops up in front of him and his client.
I leave around 4.00pm as I need to do some writing, making a detour via HMV to purchase “Marina & the Diamonds” excellent new album “The Family Jewels”. I arrive home in time to bath the kids and just before tucking Lily to bed, the cherub tells me in a whispering voice of fellow classmates being allowed to take the register to the school office, but never her. She feels inadequate, she cannot understand what she has done wrong? I had better have a word with the teacher in the morning…perhaps I need to pay her off or something. I don’t want my daughter fostering an inferiority complex at the age of five.
In the evening, I ask my wife whether she fancies breast enlargements for her forthcoming birthday?
The generous offer is declined.