Last night, we drank the world's best shiraz.

Which is always a good thing to do if you can manage it, I suppose. In this case, it was part of a four-course wine dinner (which is also always a good thing to do if you can manage it). Witchmount Estate's other offerings (a pinot gris and a barbera) were perfectly pleasant, if nothing outrageously special (though the barbera went very nicely indeed with the lamb cutlets). The real thing we were all there for, of course, was the number one shiraz in the world.

Just as well, by the sounds of it. As you might expect, the winery has sold out of its winning 2004 vintage. And the 2005. The winemaker (who was regaling us with his impoersonations of the Syrah du Monde people) noted that he didn't even have any at his place. This wine is an endangered species.

And last night I had a glass of it with a thoroughly lovely steak. So nyah.

"So then," he continued, telling me about his dream, "they were dropping cluster bombs on us and I said, 'I thought cluster bombs were banned,' and they said yes, they were, every country in the world had signed the treaty banning them, but there was an exception for Canada if they were using them against the US."

There's something immensely satisfying about walking past a shiny, newest-model, all-available-extras, wheel-clamped BMW.

Dear Dee,
When you start talking to the manuscript, it's probably time to stop editing for the evening. Plus, "I'm confiscating your adverbs," hasn't been funny since the fourth time you said it.
Hugs and kisses,
Yourself