Any reader who can do me the compliment of remembering the first piece I wrote for this publication will also realise that by encouraging champagne lovers to go out to Champagne itself and buy there, I was biting the hand that fed me, so to speak. Most penny-conscious drinkers think that they are doing the Chancellor down by buying in France (which, of course, they are), rather than taking trade away from the hard-pressed British wine merchant.
    Last November 4, a good friend of mine, accompanied by a friend of his and both their wives, set off on a booze cruise, travelling by ferry, since one of the wives had never liked the idea of the tunnel. They both lived near Canterbury and could get to Dover in about 20 minutes. Having enjoyed a hearty breakfast, thanks to P&O, they set off in the estate car for Hesdin, where the Wine Society has its depôt. Having spent liberally there, they visited Le Comptoir des Grandes Marques, near Boulogne, and filled the car up to such an extent that not only were the two wives fairly uncomfortable in the back, surrounded by cases, but the front end of the car seemed to be pointing skywards. Not a problem, they thought, as they were only going to have lunch and would then head for home to arrive comfortably in time for tea.
    But fate, in the shape of the French lorry drivers, was about to intervene! One of their lightning industrial actions had entirely blockaded the port of Calais. Que faire? The tunnel? No. The motorway to it was solid from the ferry port, and the wife still was not keen. The only alternative was to head to Zeebrugge, which was rumoured to be open and flowing freely. A drive up the coast for a few hours was uncomfortable because the traffic was very heavy, and since it was now dark, the car’s headlights were dazzling oncoming drivers who reacted without British phlegm. Zeebrugge was chaos, and nobody seemed interested in helping.
    They eventually caught a ferry at 4am the following morning, and because it is a much longer crossing than Calais-Dover, got home around 9am, some 17 hours after they should have done! I asked whether the saving they had made on the duty was worth the hassle, and did not receive an unequivocal response. Plain sailing it had not been!
    My second cautionary tale relates to the disproving of a maxim I have long held to be true, and that is that great châteaux do not make poor wine, even in bad years. I have long been a fan of Château Beychevelle, that fine fourth-growth St Julien. It has a fair representation in my cellar, and at a recent dinner party, I decided to open the ’92, since this is not a great keeping vintage. The first bottle was corked, and the others, though correct, were really dull – a bit sharp and thin, and dreadfully typical of the wet, dilute wines that were made throughout Bordeaux in that damp year. If you have any, I should send them to auction, and keep your fingers crossed.