Life After Death...

In my head a 1000 voices whispered encouragement, urging me to France. They couldn’t be drowned out by the voices of doubt, I was deaf to them, I knew I needed a new life. John, my husband had died a couple of years ago and not only had I lost him I’d lost myself as well as all the plans we’d had for our lives.

After his death for at least a year I’d walked in a trance, seemingly functioning but a crumbling wreck on the inside. I’m someone who needs a plan, but I didn’t know how to begin again.

Then I enrolled on a wine course…

John had loved wine and I’d happily followed him around wineries on our French and Italian holidays. By studying the subject of wine I felt connected to him. It also woke a passion and I found I had a talent for tasting.

I don’t do things by half and five years later I was a fully qualified wine teacher running my own wine school and teaching at one of the major colleges in Birmingham.

I was happier but not fulfilled…

We were always going to live in France one day. John had planned to run wine tours and tastings for holiday makers, and I’d toyed with the idea of running a B&B. It had been a pipe dream but why not make it come true? Why not run a wine tourism business and give life to John’s idea?

But how was I going to make it happen, I didn’t even speak French..!

Fate stepped in. I won a wine tasting competition and was invited to Languedoc, a place we’d visited many years previously on a family holiday. Returning brought back lovely memories and also John’s words; he’d predicted one day Languedoc would be an important wine region and he was right, things were happening…

I took a 6-month sabbatical, bought a Renault Espace and stuck a pin in the Languedoc map and found a cottage to rent in the Minervois.

I knew hardly anyone…

But I knew me and I knew I could do it…

If not then I’d just go home, what had I got to lose?

I spent that first 6 months exploring Languedoc, meeting wine makers, learning about the magic of terroir and discovering routes for my wine tours which slowly but surely took off.

When the time came, I reluctantly returned to England with my head full of plans and ideas for a permanent life in France. For the next few years I split my time between countries, teaching wine studies in winter and running vineyard tours in the summer.

During one of those summer days I took a walk in a village I’d never been to before. As I strolled around I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck. I’d found my place. This was where I belonged. Rounding a corner I saw a ruined cottage ripe for renovation, so I bought it. Okay, it wasn’t that straight forward but within eighteen months I’d moved in. Life was good. Fourteen years had passed since John had died and I knew how proud he’d be of me. I’d made our dream come true and now I was ready for the next chapter…

Wine snobbery – I can’t bear it…

If there’s one thing that drives me crazy its people who describe wine in a painfully prosaic way. I read one such review a few weeks ago that sent me crawling to the loo to throw up. The writer described the wine as ‘redolent of the warm scent of hay before harvest and with the texture of quince skins after the fluff has been rubbed off.’ Can you relate to that? I certainly can’t. Tasting notes should be helpful as well as beautifully written. Oh, and hay before harvest is just grass…

I’m one of a handful of lucky people who have tasted the white wine described above and it was fabulous. It would appeal to someone who likes to be slightly confused by a wine’s flavours, enjoying the difficulty in pinning them down. For me it was layered with yellowy-green flavours such as quince and overripe slightly bruised apples and it had a honied aroma, not sweet, more waxy really and that texture continued on the palate. It had body, so the weight in the mouth was more like mango juice than apple and its flavours lingered allowing me to savour it for a long time.

My point is describing wine is not easy, I liken it to learning a foreign language – the language of wine. I have a friend who personifies wine which I think is very clever. For instance, he describes a cheap and cheerful Sauvignon blanc as the girl who greets you at a party with an air kiss. She’s fun to begin with but after a while you want to move onto something or someone more interesting…

A simple Merlot, something in the lower price bracket from Languedoc or Chile perhaps, he dubs a Dave wine. Everyone has a Dave in their life. He’s the uncomplicated friend, sturdy, often plump and always there when you need him. But he has a cousin who is rather more gallant and impeccably dressed who lives in a Bordeaux château most probably in St Emilion or maybe even Pomerol and his name is David…

Its fun having a go at describing wine so why not try it next time you open a bottle of wine and see if it reminds you of anyone?