Bordeaux was a good place to start. Most people had heard of Bordeaux. But it was quite expensive. Mostly because so many had heard of it.
But, the region had plenty of 'unknown' villages where wine was cheaper (usually damned in books by a cruel and very faint praise; "Decent quaffing wines only".) Our French base was in one of these villages. So I started out in the wine trade with a deep-seated, rather surly 'outsider' attitude to 'The Greats' and a belief that 'the wines next door to The Greats' were much more interesting ... and if you wanna argue, just come outside and we'll sort this man to man; corkscrews at dawn.
There are so many important things in the world you could launch a crusade about, but I chose this! And stick to it still.
You look at Laithwaites lists over forty years you don't – until recently – see so many of the established 'greats', (sorry, Laithwaites Fine Wine chaps, but you have your passions, I have mine). What you do see are lots of unknown 'discoveries'.
Had I first landed in 'famous Saint-Emilion' rather than 'unknown Castillon' next door everything could have been very different.
Somebody joked about me always wanting - as per the subtitle of a well known TV series - 'To Boldly Go where man had never gone before'.
Fair enough, so we launched 'Laithwaite's Great Wine Trek'. And off I went.
First, up the Dordogne to regions 'next door to next door' like Bergerac and Duras. In the early 70's, not yet become new British colonies they are today, but run-down regions with virtually identical 'terroir' to Bordeaux' and with lovely wines, loads cheaper.
Bergerac - white and red - were my first Big Hits. I remember a Windsor customer ... sports reporter chap, bought nothing else; name of Michael Parkinson. He's traded up since, I guess.
We did Cahors of course. But that was well known. "Ah! The Black Wine of Cahors" wine buffs would cry. Hadn't been black for centuries but wine buff traditions are so very enduring.
The Midi! The Midi was Huge for me. Maybe some Corbieres had been seen in the UK but only merchant-bottled in Bordeaux. Not necessarily all that authentic.
My Bordeaux grower friends all said I must stop asking them for cheaper wine and go to the Midi...and go meet 'Dubernet'.
Jean-Henri Dubernet was an oenologist from Bordeaux who grew tired of pandering to rich Bordeaux Chatelains and struck out for the Wild West of Wine as he called it - in the East. By the Med. Oldest vineyards in France. Devastated. Not so much by the Phylloxera bug wiping out its vineyards as by what happened next; 'industrial wine'.
100+ years ago the vast region of The Midi - largest wine region in the world - was replanted with rubbish vineyards designed to produced as much vaguely red, slightly alcoholic liquid as possible to quench a decade's wine drought.
Fortunes were made. Vines were planted everywhere - swampland, beaches, all over. What had been, since the Phoenicians, wonderful steep hillside vineyards just sort vanished under the sea of what we Brits called 'Plonk', and the French called 'Vin Ordinaire' or, if bolstered by some rich -truly black - wine from Algeria, 'Vin Superieur'. This quenched the thirst of the French working man and his Two-Litres-(average)-a-day habit ... for as long as he lived, that is. Not that long alas.
Dubernet's Crusade was to bring back the great wines of the Midi. He took me all over ... for days at a time. To the few growers and co-operatives he'd persuaded to abandon 'industrial' and go for 'quality'. Cutting production down, hoping people would pay more for a better wine. I would, but I was - incredibly - the only merchant visting. And I was small.
I had to abandon my insistence on 'estate-bottling' because no-one back then bottled. It was all bulk sales in tankers, but we got some of Jean-Henri's followers to send wine to one of the region's two commercial bottlers and made sure they didn't screw it up.
Massive success for us for decades. Many wines. Especially the 'Cuvee Georges Bertrand'. Whole Grape Maceration. Soft juicy red. It something customers had never tasted before. Great guy; Georges. Sadly died - car crash like so many - but son Gerard is now the superstar of the Midi.
My God, but they were fascinating times and wonderful travels.
Monday, 28 February 2011
Friday, 25 February 2011
How Laithwaites happened. Part six
So, in 1973 it could seem, that was that. All we had to do now was not drop the ball and watch the Company grow.
It’s true, after the launch of The Wine Club my memory does go hazier. But I don't think that was because not a lot was happening. On the contrary it was because it all became a bit of a blur. So much to do. So much we wanted to do.
We like to believe that the tumble drier of life will stop soon, we will be able to see where we are and look around a bit. But that never happens does it?
Well maybe at 65 it’s beginning to and I am finding time to try and remember what we did next, why we did it and if there are any old ideas we could use again.
Because it grew so fast, our business more or less was - after 1973 - 'The Sunday Times Wine Club'. Bordeaux Direct continued on in its own sweet little way under Windsor Arch, but was eclipsed.
The Club did revolutionary stuff. Produced wine lists full of information. We had clever codes and symbols for how and when to drink, we had witty descriptions from the pens of Hugh Johnson and some of the best Sunday Times writers. And we broke the rule of listing everything in regional categories beginning with Champagne, Bordeaux and Burgundy … with not much else to follow. We got wines from the strangest places and just put them in a list by price order.
We also launched a magazine; 'Wine Times', which in its time had some great editors: Cyril Ray, Jancis Robinson, Jim Ainsworth and contributors like Alan Coren; a hero of mine.
Our belief was we had to teach, we had to inform. No-one else was doing this. Supermarkets didn't actually sell wine back then. The 'off-licences' and pukka wine merchants of the day published lists that just said things like 'Margaux 1962', 'Nuits St Georges 1964' and left it at that. Meant little outside the Upper Classes.
We and the sainted Editor (to borrow a phrase) thought there was a large and baffled public out there who wanted wine ... and some wine knowledge. So we provided tons of it. As a result we were cartooned in 'Punch' and lampooned in the Eye's 'Pseud's Corner', but hey, that's fame!
As a boy who so loved maps he wallpapered his room with them, I thought Hugh Johnson's World Atlas of Wine was the most exciting book ever published. I drooled over those maps … the first time anyone had ever seen where wines actually came from. And it was now my job to take off, around the world, armed with that book, and go find the wine goodies of the world! How could this ever be considered as 'work'?
I've been apologising for my 'job' ever since.
It’s true, after the launch of The Wine Club my memory does go hazier. But I don't think that was because not a lot was happening. On the contrary it was because it all became a bit of a blur. So much to do. So much we wanted to do.
We like to believe that the tumble drier of life will stop soon, we will be able to see where we are and look around a bit. But that never happens does it?
Well maybe at 65 it’s beginning to and I am finding time to try and remember what we did next, why we did it and if there are any old ideas we could use again.
Because it grew so fast, our business more or less was - after 1973 - 'The Sunday Times Wine Club'. Bordeaux Direct continued on in its own sweet little way under Windsor Arch, but was eclipsed.
The Club did revolutionary stuff. Produced wine lists full of information. We had clever codes and symbols for how and when to drink, we had witty descriptions from the pens of Hugh Johnson and some of the best Sunday Times writers. And we broke the rule of listing everything in regional categories beginning with Champagne, Bordeaux and Burgundy … with not much else to follow. We got wines from the strangest places and just put them in a list by price order.
We also launched a magazine; 'Wine Times', which in its time had some great editors: Cyril Ray, Jancis Robinson, Jim Ainsworth and contributors like Alan Coren; a hero of mine.
Our belief was we had to teach, we had to inform. No-one else was doing this. Supermarkets didn't actually sell wine back then. The 'off-licences' and pukka wine merchants of the day published lists that just said things like 'Margaux 1962', 'Nuits St Georges 1964' and left it at that. Meant little outside the Upper Classes.
We and the sainted Editor (to borrow a phrase) thought there was a large and baffled public out there who wanted wine ... and some wine knowledge. So we provided tons of it. As a result we were cartooned in 'Punch' and lampooned in the Eye's 'Pseud's Corner', but hey, that's fame!
As a boy who so loved maps he wallpapered his room with them, I thought Hugh Johnson's World Atlas of Wine was the most exciting book ever published. I drooled over those maps … the first time anyone had ever seen where wines actually came from. And it was now my job to take off, around the world, armed with that book, and go find the wine goodies of the world! How could this ever be considered as 'work'?
I've been apologising for my 'job' ever since.
Thursday, 24 February 2011
How Laithwaites happened. Part five
In '72 something happened that changed everything for us.
The Sunday Times did one of its famous 'exposés' on the frauds of the UK wine trade. As I only brought in estate -bottled wine, I was dearer than much of the wine trade who had yet, at the time (pre- EEC), to accept the basic principle of Appellation Contrôllée (ie it is supposed to come from where it says it comes from and be made from what it says it’s made from!)
So, on a whim, I wrote cheekily to the Editor.
July 16 1972
Sunday Times Letter
Chateau wine on the Cheap
THANK YOU, Insight Consumer Unit for another wine expose on dishonest labelling (Look! Last week) – only six years after the last.
Could you not do a few more? There are some of us in the trade earning a hard and precarious living importing and selling only chateau and estate bottled wines which compete in price with the London bottled brews.
To do this commercially and compete against those of our big brothers who apparently learnt their trade bootlegging in Prohibition America, we’ve had to cut out absolutely everybody and everything generally associated with the fine wine trade.
We live in a railway arch and do nothing finer or more esoteric than driving one great truck between vineyard and consumer – it’s hard and not at all the life wine trade executives are supposed to lead.
We can and do sell really good chateau bottled clarets (from chateau that do actually exist – no fantasy at all) at well under a pound, and many other wines too. Chateau bottling as opposed to merchant bottling either in France or in this country, is the only reasonable guarantee of authenticity and quality.
The French think the average Englishman knows nothing about wine – they are right, and no matter how many full page “guides to a wine label” the British trade prints it has not the slightest intention of doing anything to improve the situation until its dragged screaming into Europe.
Tony Laithwaite
Bordeaux Direct, Railway Arch 36, Goswell Road, Windsor
And he went and printed it ... with full address!!! It prompted HUNDREDS of enquiries!!!!
An 'important customer' said we should ask the Sunday Times to do one of their special offers; 'Instant Cellars'. We did, and, amazingly, they said yes! All of a sudden we were far too big for our Arch. Like 5000 cases in one go!
How do you do that? You hire 5 massive trucks to fetch it. Premises? All we could find was the old Railway Depot at Slough Station. One creaking, ancient lift. And one creaking, ancient warehouseman called Charlie. So you have to do all the repacking yourself. With press-ganged mates. You hire ladies to type the coupons into labels. You put them in your bedroom! - because you have no-where else; your living room being full of people answering the phone.
By the skin of our teeth we did it ... but the result delighted the Sunday Times who said we'd sold more than twice as much as any other Merchant. So could we do it again?
We did. Same sort of mix of unusual French Country wines straight from the producers - people who had never exported before.
Then someone suggested that if we formed a 'Club' we could go beyond just one-off, mixed cases and have a 'List'. We could hold tastings around the country, we could take members to visit the vineyards, we could print a magazine ... and, and, and ...
The Sunday Times sent their Special Offers man Bruce Howell down to Windsor, to decide if we were up to the task. Bruce was a lovely man with more than a touch of the anarchist about him. He saw we were hopelessly ill-equipped, but then – what the hell! – he gave the thumbs up!
The Editor asked Hugh Johnson (who had just published his first Wine Atlas) to be President (to keep a winewise eye on us). The Sunday Times Wine Club was launched in October 1973.
It soared away! I might describe it as a 'wonderful nightmare' for us.
We leased an old World War One explosives factory in Slough. The launch of The Sunday Times Wine Club brought us 5000 members virtually overnight - 10,000 within weeks - and turned us from a small company of four people into the second-largest direct wine merchant in the country ... after the venerable Wine Society.
Wine flooded in, the cases rose skywards and our old fork-lift caught fire; the first of many court cases for Barbara.
The wonderful Club Members were, thankfully, very patient with us. We caused a minor stir. Being considered trendy enough to merit a cartoon in Punch. And our ‘off-the-wall’ tasting notes landed us in Private Eye’s Pseud’s Corner several times. Heady stuff!
Our approach was original though. Existing merchants didn’t try to describe wines, they didn’t bring wines direct from small producers. Some got cross with us and tried to suppress the upstart.
Barbara insisted we take a low profile, heads below the battlements.
She also insisted we grow slowly at a rate we could afford. Her Scottish Accountant dad, Harry (after whom we named our malt whisky) had imbued her with "ne'er a borrower nor a lender be" old-fashioned ways. So we settled into slightly calmer times. We got married.
I was convinced we'd never make much money and anyway, if we did the top tax rate was 98% so what was the point trying? Just enjoy the vineyard trips to meet the growers, and enjoy the customer tastings, and try to stay solvent. Could life be any better?
The Sunday Times did one of its famous 'exposés' on the frauds of the UK wine trade. As I only brought in estate -bottled wine, I was dearer than much of the wine trade who had yet, at the time (pre- EEC), to accept the basic principle of Appellation Contrôllée (ie it is supposed to come from where it says it comes from and be made from what it says it’s made from!)
So, on a whim, I wrote cheekily to the Editor.
Sunday Times Letter
Chateau wine on the Cheap
THANK YOU, Insight Consumer Unit for another wine expose on dishonest labelling (Look! Last week) – only six years after the last.
Could you not do a few more? There are some of us in the trade earning a hard and precarious living importing and selling only chateau and estate bottled wines which compete in price with the London bottled brews.
To do this commercially and compete against those of our big brothers who apparently learnt their trade bootlegging in Prohibition America, we’ve had to cut out absolutely everybody and everything generally associated with the fine wine trade.
We live in a railway arch and do nothing finer or more esoteric than driving one great truck between vineyard and consumer – it’s hard and not at all the life wine trade executives are supposed to lead.
We can and do sell really good chateau bottled clarets (from chateau that do actually exist – no fantasy at all) at well under a pound, and many other wines too. Chateau bottling as opposed to merchant bottling either in France or in this country, is the only reasonable guarantee of authenticity and quality.
The French think the average Englishman knows nothing about wine – they are right, and no matter how many full page “guides to a wine label” the British trade prints it has not the slightest intention of doing anything to improve the situation until its dragged screaming into Europe.
Tony Laithwaite
Bordeaux Direct, Railway Arch 36, Goswell Road, Windsor
And he went and printed it ... with full address!!! It prompted HUNDREDS of enquiries!!!!
An 'important customer' said we should ask the Sunday Times to do one of their special offers; 'Instant Cellars'. We did, and, amazingly, they said yes! All of a sudden we were far too big for our Arch. Like 5000 cases in one go!
How do you do that? You hire 5 massive trucks to fetch it. Premises? All we could find was the old Railway Depot at Slough Station. One creaking, ancient lift. And one creaking, ancient warehouseman called Charlie. So you have to do all the repacking yourself. With press-ganged mates. You hire ladies to type the coupons into labels. You put them in your bedroom! - because you have no-where else; your living room being full of people answering the phone.
By the skin of our teeth we did it ... but the result delighted the Sunday Times who said we'd sold more than twice as much as any other Merchant. So could we do it again?
We did. Same sort of mix of unusual French Country wines straight from the producers - people who had never exported before.
Then someone suggested that if we formed a 'Club' we could go beyond just one-off, mixed cases and have a 'List'. We could hold tastings around the country, we could take members to visit the vineyards, we could print a magazine ... and, and, and ...
The Sunday Times sent their Special Offers man Bruce Howell down to Windsor, to decide if we were up to the task. Bruce was a lovely man with more than a touch of the anarchist about him. He saw we were hopelessly ill-equipped, but then – what the hell! – he gave the thumbs up!
The Editor asked Hugh Johnson (who had just published his first Wine Atlas) to be President (to keep a winewise eye on us). The Sunday Times Wine Club was launched in October 1973.
It soared away! I might describe it as a 'wonderful nightmare' for us.
We leased an old World War One explosives factory in Slough. The launch of The Sunday Times Wine Club brought us 5000 members virtually overnight - 10,000 within weeks - and turned us from a small company of four people into the second-largest direct wine merchant in the country ... after the venerable Wine Society.
Wine flooded in, the cases rose skywards and our old fork-lift caught fire; the first of many court cases for Barbara.
The wonderful Club Members were, thankfully, very patient with us. We caused a minor stir. Being considered trendy enough to merit a cartoon in Punch. And our ‘off-the-wall’ tasting notes landed us in Private Eye’s Pseud’s Corner several times. Heady stuff!
Our approach was original though. Existing merchants didn’t try to describe wines, they didn’t bring wines direct from small producers. Some got cross with us and tried to suppress the upstart.
Barbara insisted we take a low profile, heads below the battlements.
She also insisted we grow slowly at a rate we could afford. Her Scottish Accountant dad, Harry (after whom we named our malt whisky) had imbued her with "ne'er a borrower nor a lender be" old-fashioned ways. So we settled into slightly calmer times. We got married.
I was convinced we'd never make much money and anyway, if we did the top tax rate was 98% so what was the point trying? Just enjoy the vineyard trips to meet the growers, and enjoy the customer tastings, and try to stay solvent. Could life be any better?
Wednesday, 23 February 2011
Must interrupt my reminiscences ...
... for this trip to Paris.
France is giving me a gong! A real medal!
I am about to become a Chevalier du Merit - Agricole. I guess only France rates agriculture so highly. This award rates very high. Probably wouldn't in Britain. If it existed.
Here we are - Barbara, Helene, Yves and moi at the 'Salon Agricole' surrounded by a million farmers.
Yves says all the politicians are always at this show, are here all the time; it’s so important ... not just for the rural vote. ALL the French treasure the tradition and the richness of their food and wine culture. Politicians MUST also show they also value this ... or else.
Anyway, we are waiting for our moment in the hall. When I say 'hall' do not imagine a hallowed, silent place. This hall is heaving. All around the throng is tasting wine, sampling rillettes, saucissons, cheeses, oysters - you name it, they are eating or drinking it. A huge, glorious, annual celebration of 'La Bouffe'. It’s lunchtime, so it’s getting noisier.
We ourselves have just grabbed some Champagne, oysters, smoked trout and a display of charcuterie; all Gold Medal winners. Well, we're only here for the day so seize the chance.
There are to be two ceremonies.
First the awarding of the Lauréats des Prix d'Excellence. These are awarded, one per wine region, and are based on previous medal-winning performance. That makes sense. Wine competitions are not an exact science. You can just get lucky. But if you rack up a good tally of golds and silvers, years in a row, they will consider you for the Laureat. And we - our little Chateau La Clariere Laithwaite - is this year's Laureat for Bordeaux. Quel honneur!
But we've been winning medals here for decades. Yes, but recently we got really good '06 Silver, '07 Gold, '08 Gold (and just announced the '09 Silver ... I think our '09 is our best ever but you can't win 'em all). So ... we got the top Prize. Thanks to Olivier our vigneron, Jean-Marc and Henry our winemakers, Helene who runs the place, and Claudy who ran it for its entire existence until last year.
So what do the wine authorities go and do? They decide to award me the Merit Agricole! Logical?
Henry is doing vintage in Australia. Jean-Marc the same in Chile.
So Helene and I go up to collect the Lauréat. And Helene does a lovely little speech which is such a good selling job she gets two guys asking for a couple pallet’s-worth immediately as she gets off the rostrum!
After a pause it’s the Chef du Cabinet bestowing four Chevaliers du Merit Agricole. He can't pronounce my name but then they never can in France. But at least he doesn't do the kissing thing.
So there I am, chatting with the others over Champagne (Gold Medal) and then it’s a race to the Gare du Nord, the old Eurostar. Yves goes off to develop his photos, Helene heads for Bordeaux with the wine award.
I'd like to keep my medal on - it even impressed the taxi driver - but I mustn’t. Writing this on the train after more Champagne - and crisps. (To get Barbara sufficiently 'relaxed' before we go in the tunnel.)
Then it’s all back to normal. Except I may just wear it in bed tonight.
I am about to become a Chevalier du Merit - Agricole. I guess only France rates agriculture so highly. This award rates very high. Probably wouldn't in Britain. If it existed.
Here we are - Barbara, Helene, Yves and moi at the 'Salon Agricole' surrounded by a million farmers.
Yves says all the politicians are always at this show, are here all the time; it’s so important ... not just for the rural vote. ALL the French treasure the tradition and the richness of their food and wine culture. Politicians MUST also show they also value this ... or else.
Anyway, we are waiting for our moment in the hall. When I say 'hall' do not imagine a hallowed, silent place. This hall is heaving. All around the throng is tasting wine, sampling rillettes, saucissons, cheeses, oysters - you name it, they are eating or drinking it. A huge, glorious, annual celebration of 'La Bouffe'. It’s lunchtime, so it’s getting noisier.
We ourselves have just grabbed some Champagne, oysters, smoked trout and a display of charcuterie; all Gold Medal winners. Well, we're only here for the day so seize the chance.
There are to be two ceremonies.
But we've been winning medals here for decades. Yes, but recently we got really good '06 Silver, '07 Gold, '08 Gold (and just announced the '09 Silver ... I think our '09 is our best ever but you can't win 'em all). So ... we got the top Prize. Thanks to Olivier our vigneron, Jean-Marc and Henry our winemakers, Helene who runs the place, and Claudy who ran it for its entire existence until last year.
So what do the wine authorities go and do? They decide to award me the Merit Agricole! Logical?
Henry is doing vintage in Australia. Jean-Marc the same in Chile.
After a pause it’s the Chef du Cabinet bestowing four Chevaliers du Merit Agricole. He can't pronounce my name but then they never can in France. But at least he doesn't do the kissing thing.
I'd like to keep my medal on - it even impressed the taxi driver - but I mustn’t. Writing this on the train after more Champagne - and crisps. (To get Barbara sufficiently 'relaxed' before we go in the tunnel.)
Then it’s all back to normal. Except I may just wear it in bed tonight.
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
How Laithwaites happened. Part four
So by the end of 1970 'Bordeaux Direct' was fun. But no way was it what you might call 'a business'.
I had to get real sometime. I did, but actually it was done for me.
My Dad finally cracked and threw me out of the family home. Fair enough. That helped concentrate the mind.
But the big thing was meeting Barbara again. We got on much better this time! Became 'an item' in fact. She lived in Westbourne Grove and had the big job of producing the weekly TV viewing figures for advertisers, but, after I begged, she gave it up (Mad!) to come and sort me out. Accounts? What accounts? Didn't know you had to do accounts.
I did find us premises: Arch 36! Under the railway viaduct at Windsor and full of coal dust ... but only £5 a week. Luxury! (There were no little 'starter premises' for new businesses in those days. There was nothing - period - for small businesses in those days.)
People liked the roughness of the Arch. I did tastings most nights ... for any groups that wanted: Rotary, WVS, Amateur Winemakers Guilds, the Police ... I talked to 'em all. Like when I'd done the tastings in people's homes, they seem to like me just telling them where I went to get my wines, why I chose certain wine farmers over others, and just burbling on while they sipped. It made for a few jolly evenings. I still do this. There's no stopping a real wine bore!
I 'borrowed' a caravan so we could work in the warm and left Barbara behind while I went off to Bordeaux. The furious owner of the caravan came and took it away ... papers strewn everywhere ... and same day an equally furious Town Planner came and said we were all illegal and he was going to shut us down. Barbara coped. She sorted it. She stayed. She always does and she still is. Thank the Lord.
It wasn't all bad. The engineering works next door let me have this huge empty packing case and it was the work of a moment to install a desk, chair and viola: a lovely office for my girlfriend/manager! You should've seen her face!
But mostly we traded quite happily, breaking even, enough to pay for our flats and eat. Get a good sale and we'd be straight across the park to see Peppino at 'La Taverna'. He's still there and we still go.
I began to travel further afield in France aided by Monsieur's belonging to a group of quality-conscious winemakers. 'Race et Fidelité' was their cry; they went all out to win lots of medals which was how they won customers. I learnt that with wine quality is not enough; from them.
At last I had a 'range' of wines. I also had long lovely drives: to M. Hauss in Alsace; M. Meunier in Burgundy; M Roux and M Rivier in the Rhone; M. Dubernet in the Midi and others. I learnt so much.
And I thought life was pretty good. I thought I'd about achieved my ambitions. I'd settle for this. I saw lots more exciting wine places to visit and I had never expected to earn. And I had someone to do the hard bits for me.
We formed a Limited Company in 1972. Barbara became Managing Director and I was happy to be Chairman. I have never 'run' my Company; Barbara did for 20 years.
I had to get real sometime. I did, but actually it was done for me.
My Dad finally cracked and threw me out of the family home. Fair enough. That helped concentrate the mind.
But the big thing was meeting Barbara again. We got on much better this time! Became 'an item' in fact. She lived in Westbourne Grove and had the big job of producing the weekly TV viewing figures for advertisers, but, after I begged, she gave it up (Mad!) to come and sort me out. Accounts? What accounts? Didn't know you had to do accounts.
I did find us premises: Arch 36! Under the railway viaduct at Windsor and full of coal dust ... but only £5 a week. Luxury! (There were no little 'starter premises' for new businesses in those days. There was nothing - period - for small businesses in those days.)
People liked the roughness of the Arch. I did tastings most nights ... for any groups that wanted: Rotary, WVS, Amateur Winemakers Guilds, the Police ... I talked to 'em all. Like when I'd done the tastings in people's homes, they seem to like me just telling them where I went to get my wines, why I chose certain wine farmers over others, and just burbling on while they sipped. It made for a few jolly evenings. I still do this. There's no stopping a real wine bore!
I 'borrowed' a caravan so we could work in the warm and left Barbara behind while I went off to Bordeaux. The furious owner of the caravan came and took it away ... papers strewn everywhere ... and same day an equally furious Town Planner came and said we were all illegal and he was going to shut us down. Barbara coped. She sorted it. She stayed. She always does and she still is. Thank the Lord.
It wasn't all bad. The engineering works next door let me have this huge empty packing case and it was the work of a moment to install a desk, chair and viola: a lovely office for my girlfriend/manager! You should've seen her face!
But mostly we traded quite happily, breaking even, enough to pay for our flats and eat. Get a good sale and we'd be straight across the park to see Peppino at 'La Taverna'. He's still there and we still go.
I began to travel further afield in France aided by Monsieur's belonging to a group of quality-conscious winemakers. 'Race et Fidelité' was their cry; they went all out to win lots of medals which was how they won customers. I learnt that with wine quality is not enough; from them.
At last I had a 'range' of wines. I also had long lovely drives: to M. Hauss in Alsace; M. Meunier in Burgundy; M Roux and M Rivier in the Rhone; M. Dubernet in the Midi and others. I learnt so much.
And I thought life was pretty good. I thought I'd about achieved my ambitions. I'd settle for this. I saw lots more exciting wine places to visit and I had never expected to earn. And I had someone to do the hard bits for me.
We formed a Limited Company in 1972. Barbara became Managing Director and I was happy to be Chairman. I have never 'run' my Company; Barbara did for 20 years.
Monday, 21 February 2011
How Laithwaites happened. Part three
After the wonder summer of 1969, reality hit, thud, back home in Windsor. I see myself looking at my salesman's briefcase of half-bottle samples in my old bedroom, in front of the electric fire, that cold October. With just two replies to my first mail shot, I was thinking I must be mad as well as sad.
I would certainly have given up ... if there had been any alternative. Two things buoyed me up: the thought that what I was doing would keep the link with the place and people of Bordeaux. And ... the reply of my mate Parkin to my whingeing letter: "Laithwaite, Old Son, we have a saying in Yorkshire: 'Tough Titty'! Just get on with it, will you!" I'll always owe Parkin. The swine. No going back after that.
I was offering 'free tastings in your home'. Anyone said yes, I borrowed my Dad's car and went over with my samples of my one wine. People were very kind. Clearly they bought out of pity. Sales did come ... maybe ten cases a month. Thankfully there was no accountant around to point out the total financial futility of it all. Blind ignorance and naiveté can be such a blessing! With nothing to lose, and no other options ... might as well plod on.
And actually it was a good time to be starting. The world was changing; helpfully for me. French wine producers were just realising they could now afford the new machinery to bottle and market their own wine. (Previously you could only buy from the big Merchant-Shippers who controlled all - and they already had UK agents).
And with the new Roll-On/Off Ferry at Southampton, Bordeaux was less than 24 hours away.
So Monsieur helped me find five other Bordeaux suppliers; Henri Bourlon at Vieux Chateau Guibeau, Dominique Guillot de Suduiraud at Château Magence, Maurice Gouzon at Producta in Bergerac and Jean Bernard at Chateau Matras in St Emilion. Then, amazingly, he persuaded them to each put up £200. Grandmother came up with the final £200 and I was able to buy a shiny 35cwt Ford Transit box-bodied van. (Carried 100 cases.) I cut out the words 'Bordeaux Direct' (an idea I got off a roadsign) and the shape of a Coq (French) + Wineglass (a logo I thought was obvious until a French trucker on the ferry asked what I sold; "Du vin ou poulet?".)
The van changed everything for the better. Instead of waiting for my shipment, hoping the dockers didn't nick too much, I drove Bordeaux and back, every month. It was (pre-motorways) a long haul, but I desperately wanted to keep in close contact with the world of Bordeaux. Remember these were the days when calls to 'abroad' had to booked 24 hours ahead, and cost a fortune.
I would roll off the Le Havre ferry at dawn and rock along through Pont Audemer, Bernay, Sées, Alencon, Le Mans, Tours, Poitiers, Angouleme ... with the big speakers blasting. My reward for a month's hard selling.
I was trading better. Still no money though. Sponging off Mum, Dad ... and Grandmother ... embarrassing when all your mates had things like salaries. But all worth it just for that monthly trip to the vineyards.
I would certainly have given up ... if there had been any alternative. Two things buoyed me up: the thought that what I was doing would keep the link with the place and people of Bordeaux. And ... the reply of my mate Parkin to my whingeing letter: "Laithwaite, Old Son, we have a saying in Yorkshire: 'Tough Titty'! Just get on with it, will you!" I'll always owe Parkin. The swine. No going back after that.
I was offering 'free tastings in your home'. Anyone said yes, I borrowed my Dad's car and went over with my samples of my one wine. People were very kind. Clearly they bought out of pity. Sales did come ... maybe ten cases a month. Thankfully there was no accountant around to point out the total financial futility of it all. Blind ignorance and naiveté can be such a blessing! With nothing to lose, and no other options ... might as well plod on.
And actually it was a good time to be starting. The world was changing; helpfully for me. French wine producers were just realising they could now afford the new machinery to bottle and market their own wine. (Previously you could only buy from the big Merchant-Shippers who controlled all - and they already had UK agents).
And with the new Roll-On/Off Ferry at Southampton, Bordeaux was less than 24 hours away.
So Monsieur helped me find five other Bordeaux suppliers; Henri Bourlon at Vieux Chateau Guibeau, Dominique Guillot de Suduiraud at Château Magence, Maurice Gouzon at Producta in Bergerac and Jean Bernard at Chateau Matras in St Emilion. Then, amazingly, he persuaded them to each put up £200. Grandmother came up with the final £200 and I was able to buy a shiny 35cwt Ford Transit box-bodied van. (Carried 100 cases.) I cut out the words 'Bordeaux Direct' (an idea I got off a roadsign) and the shape of a Coq (French) + Wineglass (a logo I thought was obvious until a French trucker on the ferry asked what I sold; "Du vin ou poulet?".)
The van changed everything for the better. Instead of waiting for my shipment, hoping the dockers didn't nick too much, I drove Bordeaux and back, every month. It was (pre-motorways) a long haul, but I desperately wanted to keep in close contact with the world of Bordeaux. Remember these were the days when calls to 'abroad' had to booked 24 hours ahead, and cost a fortune.
I would roll off the Le Havre ferry at dawn and rock along through Pont Audemer, Bernay, Sées, Alencon, Le Mans, Tours, Poitiers, Angouleme ... with the big speakers blasting. My reward for a month's hard selling.
I was trading better. Still no money though. Sponging off Mum, Dad ... and Grandmother ... embarrassing when all your mates had things like salaries. But all worth it just for that monthly trip to the vineyards.
Friday, 18 February 2011
How Laithwaites happened. Part two
1965. After three months in Bordeaux ... I caught the train home (with an illegal number of cases of claret for my Dad and his mates) for three years of University.
Over which, I will gloss. Apart from mentioning that I did my Geography dissertation on 'The Wines of St Emilion and Surrounding Areas'. (More visits to Bordeaux and I got to interview the young Christian Moueix and Jean-Claude Berrouet, the men behind Petrus and other such wonders).
And I met a very fanciable girl. She didn't much like my ways and I got a broken little-finger to prove it. Barbara and I both left Durham with the lowest degrees possible. Me, because I was thick. She, because she was DANGEROUS! She still got a great job. I didn't; I went back to M. Cassin's Bordeaux winery.
So there I was in this vast concrete structure which Monsieur objected to me calling ugly. I can see his point, now. I have worked with so many co-operatives over the years and found so many great wines, made so many friends, that to me, they are now sort of beautiful; 'Jolie laide' as the French say.
I stood beside the small bottling line, on to which I placed the empty bottles, hour after hour after hour, day after day, ...with two small, dark, very pretty sisters who found me utterly hilarious and unbelievably stupid. I could not really communicate with them or anyone else there; the accents were too strong.
But there was the wine! There were a hundred taps in the immediate vicinity and only a few - painted red - dispensed water. In time I began to be a little more discriminating and stopped drinking straight from the tap. There was a grimy wine glass hidden in the tool cupboard. It had lost its foot and the broken stem was embedded in a wooden barrel bung. We all used it.
So I still liked the work... but felt it was not perhaps a fast track, careerwise. Monsieur kindly gave me Mondays off to do a day-release wine course at Bordeaux University run by the wonderful Professor Emile Peynaud; the man who did more than anyone to kick Bordeaux out of decades of doldrums into the splendiferous golden age in which its top Chateaux have resided ever since.
I used to taste wine under the Prof. all morning then go off to join in the student riots in the afternoon. 1969 was not as riotous as 1968 but rioting ('le Manif!') was still the fashion. I had zero political views but was still trying to meet French girls.
Most important thing the Prof taught us was not to trust our pathetic human palates. I think that's what he said anyway. He certainly played tasting practical jokes to teach us (my classmates were all heirs to fancy Chateaux) humility. I've not trusted my palate ever since. And I don't believe in people with 'wonder palates'. Has this helped my business, I wonder?
It was a nice year. But something had to be done, I supposed. Yes, but job interviews in Bordeaux were as unsuccessful as they had been back home.
Then one day; THE BLINDING LIGHT! My road to Damascus, turned out to be the narrow lane between Puisseguin and Ste Colombe. Monsieur, driving me home after work, suddenly suggested that if no-one else would let me sell their wine, I should try selling his...set up as an agent.
I have probably embroidered the story over the years but the suggestion seemed to ignite a great welling-up of wonderful ideas to do with writing letters to people, going round giving tastings, collecting lots of orders, rolling in money.
Monsieur weighed in with stern practicalities. We talked and talked and talked...into the night ...sitting in a 2CV Citroen in Monsieur's darkened garage.
A worried Madame had to come and drag us to dinner, so hard did the idea bite, so long did we sit and talk.
Sales letters were immediately drafted, special labels printed, prices worked out. So exciting! Finally, There Was A Goal!
With Monsieur's blessing, while things were preparing I went to work for a small, traditional wine merchant in Castillon-la-Bataille. My job was to bottle a barrel of wine per day. Sitting on the floor, filling, corking, capsuling, labelling all by hand. Local wine, wine from the 'Midi' and best of all; 'Mascara' from Algeria! Fabulous stuff!
Ets. Appelghem had two cellars; a modern one by the Railway
Station, and the old on the Dordogne quayside...which, to distinguish, they called 'le chai au quai'. I had no idea how important that place was to become to me forty years on.
The long hot summer of '69 was just so idyllic... living in a disused Castillon chateau, playing 'Abbey Road' to girls who actually believed I knew Paul McCartney.
All was wonderful. The future was...sorted!
Over which, I will gloss. Apart from mentioning that I did my Geography dissertation on 'The Wines of St Emilion and Surrounding Areas'. (More visits to Bordeaux and I got to interview the young Christian Moueix and Jean-Claude Berrouet, the men behind Petrus and other such wonders).
And I met a very fanciable girl. She didn't much like my ways and I got a broken little-finger to prove it. Barbara and I both left Durham with the lowest degrees possible. Me, because I was thick. She, because she was DANGEROUS! She still got a great job. I didn't; I went back to M. Cassin's Bordeaux winery.
So there I was in this vast concrete structure which Monsieur objected to me calling ugly. I can see his point, now. I have worked with so many co-operatives over the years and found so many great wines, made so many friends, that to me, they are now sort of beautiful; 'Jolie laide' as the French say.
I stood beside the small bottling line, on to which I placed the empty bottles, hour after hour after hour, day after day, ...with two small, dark, very pretty sisters who found me utterly hilarious and unbelievably stupid. I could not really communicate with them or anyone else there; the accents were too strong.
But there was the wine! There were a hundred taps in the immediate vicinity and only a few - painted red - dispensed water. In time I began to be a little more discriminating and stopped drinking straight from the tap. There was a grimy wine glass hidden in the tool cupboard. It had lost its foot and the broken stem was embedded in a wooden barrel bung. We all used it.
So I still liked the work... but felt it was not perhaps a fast track, careerwise. Monsieur kindly gave me Mondays off to do a day-release wine course at Bordeaux University run by the wonderful Professor Emile Peynaud; the man who did more than anyone to kick Bordeaux out of decades of doldrums into the splendiferous golden age in which its top Chateaux have resided ever since.
I used to taste wine under the Prof. all morning then go off to join in the student riots in the afternoon. 1969 was not as riotous as 1968 but rioting ('le Manif!') was still the fashion. I had zero political views but was still trying to meet French girls.
Most important thing the Prof taught us was not to trust our pathetic human palates. I think that's what he said anyway. He certainly played tasting practical jokes to teach us (my classmates were all heirs to fancy Chateaux) humility. I've not trusted my palate ever since. And I don't believe in people with 'wonder palates'. Has this helped my business, I wonder?
It was a nice year. But something had to be done, I supposed. Yes, but job interviews in Bordeaux were as unsuccessful as they had been back home.
Then one day; THE BLINDING LIGHT! My road to Damascus, turned out to be the narrow lane between Puisseguin and Ste Colombe. Monsieur, driving me home after work, suddenly suggested that if no-one else would let me sell their wine, I should try selling his...set up as an agent.
I have probably embroidered the story over the years but the suggestion seemed to ignite a great welling-up of wonderful ideas to do with writing letters to people, going round giving tastings, collecting lots of orders, rolling in money.
Monsieur weighed in with stern practicalities. We talked and talked and talked...into the night ...sitting in a 2CV Citroen in Monsieur's darkened garage.
A worried Madame had to come and drag us to dinner, so hard did the idea bite, so long did we sit and talk.
Sales letters were immediately drafted, special labels printed, prices worked out. So exciting! Finally, There Was A Goal!
With Monsieur's blessing, while things were preparing I went to work for a small, traditional wine merchant in Castillon-la-Bataille. My job was to bottle a barrel of wine per day. Sitting on the floor, filling, corking, capsuling, labelling all by hand. Local wine, wine from the 'Midi' and best of all; 'Mascara' from Algeria! Fabulous stuff!
Ets. Appelghem had two cellars; a modern one by the Railway
Station, and the old on the Dordogne quayside...which, to distinguish, they called 'le chai au quai'. I had no idea how important that place was to become to me forty years on.
The long hot summer of '69 was just so idyllic... living in a disused Castillon chateau, playing 'Abbey Road' to girls who actually believed I knew Paul McCartney.
All was wonderful. The future was...sorted!
Thursday, 17 February 2011
How Laithwaites happened. Part one
It was Grandmother who started it all. The one ours sons called 'Big Nana'. When staying with us in Windsor one day this formidable retired Lancastrian shopkeeper 'rescued' a lost French tourist (who wasn't lost at all). That one action set the whole, long chain of events in motion that leads us to Laithwaites Wine today because the lady came from Bordeaux.
Over a reviving tea, Leina – the tourist – heard about this grandson who fancied going to France when he left school. To meet Brigitte Bardot and Inspecteur Maigret.
Result; there I was, 1965, a week out of school, bundled into André and Leina's white Panhard at a sweltering Bordeaux station and taken to their flat in Talence, given a dish of strawberries in chilled claret sprinkled with sugar. They were very kind and also rather inspiring.
André had a business making a new type of scaffolding he'd invented. Leina had just started to make and sell woven wood fence panels like she'd seen in England. We don't think of France as so very entrepreneurial these days. But back then, with 'Le General' on the throne, it was. Maybe something clicked for me; she was having such fun. Could business actually be fun? New idea.
They tried to get me a job in Bordeaux, but finally had to settle for an unpaid job on an archaeological dig in a village called Sainte Colombe.
I can still vividly recall my first view of Ste Colombe ... possibly because we live slap in the middle of that view next to the church and Le Presbytere. Actually we don't live in France. I just visit all the time. I consider I've never really left Sainte Colombe. I can't leave Ste Colombe.
The pretty young archaeologists left after the weekend alas, and I sat in the hot dust alone, scrabbling away at a Roman villa. The dig uncovered two stone, cement faced square basins; 1600 year old wine vats! No-one else knows about these because the following year the site was sold and the new owner bulldozed everything to plant vines! But clearly Ste Colombe was very long ago seen as a good place to make wine.
Not being able to fend for myself, I was directed up the hill the oldest house in the village to lodge with Monsieur and Madame Cassin.
They saw me lumbering and lost, through their vines and said to themselves ‘C’est bien un Anglais, ça’! Recently returned to France, they had suffered thirty years of British colonial rule out in Nigeria. So they put me up in the barn, showed me the cold water tap in the yard, and the earth privy!
But this, for me, was heaven. This was really living. This was all Laurie Lee ‘walking out’ in real Europe. I raved over everything Madame cooked and gawped when Monsieur told me he ran a huge wine cellar in the next village. Gissa job then? He phoned the Cellarmaster and I was taken on as a ‘Stagiaire’… (cheap labour). Goodbye archaeology.
Employment rules were simpler then, and Brits were a rarity in France. Don’t try this now.
I doubt there was anyone in all Bordeaux better than Jean Cassin to teach me wine. Born there but sent abroad to work at 15 he had the fresh take on the wine trade that only foreigners have. (The fame of Bordeaux was all built by foreigners). A very original thinker. As a very successful trader in Africa he taught me as much business sense as I was capable of understanding. (Not a lot, but it came in useful later).
In Ste Colombe, summer of 1965 it seemed the Middle Ages were only just coming to an end. The Cassins had a car but no-one else did. Or anything much that might be called modern.
Apart the Cassins, all wore clogs. Men; berets and 'bleue's'. Women; floral aprons or black. All kept pigs, chickens, ducks and geese. Horses or oxen to plough. Cooked on open fires often in rooms with earth floors. Grew virtually everything they ate ... and drank. Each tiny patch of land, every apple tree, every walnut tree every acacia copse, every bit of woodland that might produce game or cêpes or posts for the vineyard, was owned, watched over, guarded and cared for. Every bit of precious earth was tended so as to produce its best ... best of whatever it was suited for and to go on producing it for sons, daughters, grandchildren.
They hadn't heard the term 'eco-friendly', but they really understood what their precious, life-giving land needed.
I fell for that life of vineyards and cellars governed by the seasons and the cycles of the moon. And also the long brown legs of the girl who rattled her milk-pail past my window every evening. Living? I was in a novel, a historical novel, and I never wanted to leave.
I made hay (really!); all pitchforks and rakes, the old ladies telling me some undreamt of facts of life! The boys and girls took me to the summer 'Bals'; every village had at least one. Orchestre, dancing, feasting, boules and bike races.
'Stagiere' - work involved cleaning tanks, sweeping floors, filling bottles, stacking bottles, labelling, packing, despatching. Working in vineyards was mostly spraying copper sulphate and turning blue. Nothing skilled but at least I was in the wine trade!
Over a reviving tea, Leina – the tourist – heard about this grandson who fancied going to France when he left school. To meet Brigitte Bardot and Inspecteur Maigret.
Result; there I was, 1965, a week out of school, bundled into André and Leina's white Panhard at a sweltering Bordeaux station and taken to their flat in Talence, given a dish of strawberries in chilled claret sprinkled with sugar. They were very kind and also rather inspiring.
André had a business making a new type of scaffolding he'd invented. Leina had just started to make and sell woven wood fence panels like she'd seen in England. We don't think of France as so very entrepreneurial these days. But back then, with 'Le General' on the throne, it was. Maybe something clicked for me; she was having such fun. Could business actually be fun? New idea.
They tried to get me a job in Bordeaux, but finally had to settle for an unpaid job on an archaeological dig in a village called Sainte Colombe.
I can still vividly recall my first view of Ste Colombe ... possibly because we live slap in the middle of that view next to the church and Le Presbytere. Actually we don't live in France. I just visit all the time. I consider I've never really left Sainte Colombe. I can't leave Ste Colombe.
The pretty young archaeologists left after the weekend alas, and I sat in the hot dust alone, scrabbling away at a Roman villa. The dig uncovered two stone, cement faced square basins; 1600 year old wine vats! No-one else knows about these because the following year the site was sold and the new owner bulldozed everything to plant vines! But clearly Ste Colombe was very long ago seen as a good place to make wine.
Not being able to fend for myself, I was directed up the hill the oldest house in the village to lodge with Monsieur and Madame Cassin.
They saw me lumbering and lost, through their vines and said to themselves ‘C’est bien un Anglais, ça’! Recently returned to France, they had suffered thirty years of British colonial rule out in Nigeria. So they put me up in the barn, showed me the cold water tap in the yard, and the earth privy!
But this, for me, was heaven. This was really living. This was all Laurie Lee ‘walking out’ in real Europe. I raved over everything Madame cooked and gawped when Monsieur told me he ran a huge wine cellar in the next village. Gissa job then? He phoned the Cellarmaster and I was taken on as a ‘Stagiaire’… (cheap labour). Goodbye archaeology.
Employment rules were simpler then, and Brits were a rarity in France. Don’t try this now.
I doubt there was anyone in all Bordeaux better than Jean Cassin to teach me wine. Born there but sent abroad to work at 15 he had the fresh take on the wine trade that only foreigners have. (The fame of Bordeaux was all built by foreigners). A very original thinker. As a very successful trader in Africa he taught me as much business sense as I was capable of understanding. (Not a lot, but it came in useful later).
In Ste Colombe, summer of 1965 it seemed the Middle Ages were only just coming to an end. The Cassins had a car but no-one else did. Or anything much that might be called modern.
Apart the Cassins, all wore clogs. Men; berets and 'bleue's'. Women; floral aprons or black. All kept pigs, chickens, ducks and geese. Horses or oxen to plough. Cooked on open fires often in rooms with earth floors. Grew virtually everything they ate ... and drank. Each tiny patch of land, every apple tree, every walnut tree every acacia copse, every bit of woodland that might produce game or cêpes or posts for the vineyard, was owned, watched over, guarded and cared for. Every bit of precious earth was tended so as to produce its best ... best of whatever it was suited for and to go on producing it for sons, daughters, grandchildren.
They hadn't heard the term 'eco-friendly', but they really understood what their precious, life-giving land needed.
I fell for that life of vineyards and cellars governed by the seasons and the cycles of the moon. And also the long brown legs of the girl who rattled her milk-pail past my window every evening. Living? I was in a novel, a historical novel, and I never wanted to leave.
I made hay (really!); all pitchforks and rakes, the old ladies telling me some undreamt of facts of life! The boys and girls took me to the summer 'Bals'; every village had at least one. Orchestre, dancing, feasting, boules and bike races.
'Stagiere' - work involved cleaning tanks, sweeping floors, filling bottles, stacking bottles, labelling, packing, despatching. Working in vineyards was mostly spraying copper sulphate and turning blue. Nothing skilled but at least I was in the wine trade!
Wednesday, 16 February 2011
In a reflective mood
Until I go to Chile next month I am not going to have a lot to say about the here and now because I'll just be sitting at a keyboard. Boring.
So I thought I might go back in time.
Now that the wonderful, clean, fast, elegant, intelligent, new Laithwaites Wine website is up - the Webbies having not slept for days, existing on bacon baps and coffee - I can see no way of getting out of writing a proper 'About Us'.
What's there now has been bodged about by many other people over many years - none of whom were born when Laithwaites started! So it’s got huge gaps and a few inaccuracies. There isn't really anyone else but me who can write the story - certainly not the early days.
I plan a short version for normal people.
But also a long rambling one for anyone too bored with life to care, or ...
... maybe for those of my lot who read this blog ( I know you do!) ... clearly desperate to know what's going on. Maybe they'd like to know how - really - we got here in the first place.
Maybe it’s for my old mates who look at this vast offices-round-the-world-wine-empire thingy, even bigger than Majestic, shake their heads and exclaim; "Laithwaite!!! Of all the ......g people, Laithwaite!! ......g Laithwaite!! How the .... did that happen then?
I'll be truthful, and if the Comments don't get too abusive I'll do it in bits as my blog on days when nothing else happens and stitch it all together later.
So tomorrow its back to when Laithwaites wine life began in 1965!
Unless there's an outcry!
So I thought I might go back in time.
Now that the wonderful, clean, fast, elegant, intelligent, new Laithwaites Wine website is up - the Webbies having not slept for days, existing on bacon baps and coffee - I can see no way of getting out of writing a proper 'About Us'.
What's there now has been bodged about by many other people over many years - none of whom were born when Laithwaites started! So it’s got huge gaps and a few inaccuracies. There isn't really anyone else but me who can write the story - certainly not the early days.
I plan a short version for normal people.
But also a long rambling one for anyone too bored with life to care, or ...
... maybe for those of my lot who read this blog ( I know you do!) ... clearly desperate to know what's going on. Maybe they'd like to know how - really - we got here in the first place.
Maybe it’s for my old mates who look at this vast offices-round-the-world-wine-empire thingy, even bigger than Majestic, shake their heads and exclaim; "Laithwaite!!! Of all the ......g people, Laithwaite!! ......g Laithwaite!! How the .... did that happen then?
I'll be truthful, and if the Comments don't get too abusive I'll do it in bits as my blog on days when nothing else happens and stitch it all together later.
So tomorrow its back to when Laithwaites wine life began in 1965!
Unless there's an outcry!
Tuesday, 15 February 2011
Home. Looking out.
Andy's first lamb of the year appeared two weeks ago. But it still gambols alone in its field. Mother must've got out for a night before she was supposed to.
Still, it's a nice sign of spring.
St Botolphe is encouraging everyone around Nettlebed to come and see his impressive snowdrop display at Swycombe. Spring sign again.
I've been writing all morning about Beaujolais (for another upcoming offer of Cru's). These wines make me think of spring too. It was always a bit of a mistake to focus everyone's attention on Nouveau Beaujolais in November. Bit of fun but not at all what Beaujolais can do when it really tries. And wrong time of year. Britain doesn't much do the Nouveau anymore. (The Japanese do! They charter many Jumbos! They'll learn.) Beaujolais is best drunk in the spring. When it is the wine world's equivalent of snowdrops and crocuses. Nice with a bit of young lamb too!
Oh how CAN I be so cruel?
Still, it's a nice sign of spring.
St Botolphe is encouraging everyone around Nettlebed to come and see his impressive snowdrop display at Swycombe. Spring sign again.
I've been writing all morning about Beaujolais (for another upcoming offer of Cru's). These wines make me think of spring too. It was always a bit of a mistake to focus everyone's attention on Nouveau Beaujolais in November. Bit of fun but not at all what Beaujolais can do when it really tries. And wrong time of year. Britain doesn't much do the Nouveau anymore. (The Japanese do! They charter many Jumbos! They'll learn.) Beaujolais is best drunk in the spring. When it is the wine world's equivalent of snowdrops and crocuses. Nice with a bit of young lamb too!
Oh how CAN I be so cruel?
Monday, 14 February 2011
Taking "shed wine" Stateside
Met with wine supremo Justin about how he is quietly revolutionising our buying.
Next week he's off to California to meet up with Nick our California Buyer to look into setting up something like 'Red Heads' in California.
We helped set up Red Heads Australia in 2002... I think. A shed winery for frustrated young winemakers to drop in and get creative.
Had its up and downs. Was a truly crazy place. But eventually it worked. Grew and expanded. The more successful winemakers were able to build their own shed wineries...though Red Heads - that's the New Red Heads (just down the road from the Old site and a much better class of shed) - remains the centre of their wine lives.
Icing on the cake is that on to it we were also able to graft a small buying team. (They have a separate quieter shed). We call them 'Source Australia' and they have so improved the deals we get - big reductions due to better contacts - 'winemaker to winemaker' - that we have coped with the A$ currency problem. Haven't had to put up prices. And we've found stuff we'd never have found before.
So the idea is to do similar in California. Worth a try.
So maybe soon customers will be able to go round the world and drop in on their friendly Laithwaites cellars.
Next week he's off to California to meet up with Nick our California Buyer to look into setting up something like 'Red Heads' in California.
We helped set up Red Heads Australia in 2002... I think. A shed winery for frustrated young winemakers to drop in and get creative.
Had its up and downs. Was a truly crazy place. But eventually it worked. Grew and expanded. The more successful winemakers were able to build their own shed wineries...though Red Heads - that's the New Red Heads (just down the road from the Old site and a much better class of shed) - remains the centre of their wine lives.
Icing on the cake is that on to it we were also able to graft a small buying team. (They have a separate quieter shed). We call them 'Source Australia' and they have so improved the deals we get - big reductions due to better contacts - 'winemaker to winemaker' - that we have coped with the A$ currency problem. Haven't had to put up prices. And we've found stuff we'd never have found before.
So the idea is to do similar in California. Worth a try.
So maybe soon customers will be able to go round the world and drop in on their friendly Laithwaites cellars.
Thursday, 10 February 2011
Back home to the writing and planning
Dinner at Xavier's Forbury Restaurant in Reading with Barbara and her nephew Iain who started with us but has been Buyer for Bibendum for years (a not-unsuccessful Wine Shipper Wholesaler you may have heard of). I taught Iain how to buy!! And how to swim. He's never forgotten.
The place is heaving, noisy, multinational as befits Reading's now global status.
We get all the 'Trade' gossip from Iain. He travels much more than I do these days. BA have even given him a Gold Card! Dammit. They won't give me one even though we run their Wine Club and seem to live on their planes. Something I said?
Spot they have Jean-Francois Seguinot-Bordet Maligny Chablis 2008 (where I was last week) so we have a bottle of that with a brilliant fresh piece of brill.
Then go mad and have a bottle Echezeaux 2001 René Engel on Iain's say so. Not bad. The lad's getting good at this.
Summons arrives ... to Paris in couple of weeks to collect our Laureat for La Clariere Laithwaite from M. Le Ministre! Best not be late.
The place is heaving, noisy, multinational as befits Reading's now global status.
We get all the 'Trade' gossip from Iain. He travels much more than I do these days. BA have even given him a Gold Card! Dammit. They won't give me one even though we run their Wine Club and seem to live on their planes. Something I said?
Spot they have Jean-Francois Seguinot-Bordet Maligny Chablis 2008 (where I was last week) so we have a bottle of that with a brilliant fresh piece of brill.
Then go mad and have a bottle Echezeaux 2001 René Engel on Iain's say so. Not bad. The lad's getting good at this.
Summons arrives ... to Paris in couple of weeks to collect our Laureat for La Clariere Laithwaite from M. Le Ministre! Best not be late.
Tuesday, 8 February 2011
Bordeaux
The cold woke me at 4. House run out of gas again and the heating pump's dead anyway. Ah ... France in winter.
But sun came blazing up in a clear sky so by 10, sweltering in 15 degrees rinsing out new barrels in bright sun ... for the 2010 to go in. It's quite heavy work for an old guy who doesn't usually do more than tap a keyboard but I love it. Love the physicality. Love also the smell of brand new oak.
Why is that? Because I can imagine that taste incorporated deliciously in the wine? Or because my grandfathers both had carpentry sheds and that smell triggers ancient happy memories of the first times I was treated to being taken to exciting grown-up work places?
People drive past. Maybe stop to catch me up with events here. Daniel has ripped up his vineyard next door, for replanting.
Lunch we go into Castillon to the 'Voyageurs' with the crowd from Le Chai. In the back room with all the town reprobates.
More barrel work P.M. Get sunburn! All wine tucked away in barrels. Tanks rinsed. Looks immaculate.
Jean-Marc offers dinner at LaClariere. His usual killer chloresterol menu;
Black pudding to start. With black radish and butter.
Then some pork ribs done in the oven and crisped on the fire.
Then some pork belly done similarly.
And duck heart brochettes stuffed with bacon.
Lots of screaming and swearing..he never uses oven gloves. Not 'manly'.
Cheese.
To bed with a fistful of statins.
But sun came blazing up in a clear sky so by 10, sweltering in 15 degrees rinsing out new barrels in bright sun ... for the 2010 to go in. It's quite heavy work for an old guy who doesn't usually do more than tap a keyboard but I love it. Love the physicality. Love also the smell of brand new oak.
Why is that? Because I can imagine that taste incorporated deliciously in the wine? Or because my grandfathers both had carpentry sheds and that smell triggers ancient happy memories of the first times I was treated to being taken to exciting grown-up work places?
People drive past. Maybe stop to catch me up with events here. Daniel has ripped up his vineyard next door, for replanting.
Lunch we go into Castillon to the 'Voyageurs' with the crowd from Le Chai. In the back room with all the town reprobates.
More barrel work P.M. Get sunburn! All wine tucked away in barrels. Tanks rinsed. Looks immaculate.
Jean-Marc offers dinner at LaClariere. His usual killer chloresterol menu;
Black pudding to start. With black radish and butter.
Then some pork ribs done in the oven and crisped on the fire.
Then some pork belly done similarly.
And duck heart brochettes stuffed with bacon.
Lots of screaming and swearing..he never uses oven gloves. Not 'manly'.
Cheese.
To bed with a fistful of statins.
Monday, 7 February 2011
Chablis to Castillon
Back into Chablis this morning. Surrounding roads totally encrusted with cars parked French style. Wedge our 4x4 into a Grand Cru vineyard. Class parking, Henry!
Town is shut to all traffic and.... heaving! Everywhere the paper flowers. Even floating on the river. Two years work apparently.
You buy your tasting glass for €5 and the cradle thing to hang it round your neck for another €. And you look for the wine stands. But there are just five - for all this lot - and of course the French don't do queuing! Bit of a ruck. And it's only one wine! The 'Cuvée Saint Vincent 2009' blended from every Chablis available, by 'The Committee'. It's very good. But I think our Laithwaites and STWC Festivals are a bit more exciting.
How many times can you taste the same wine? Well, lots.. from what I could see. After all you need to wash down copious amounts of Andouillette, Saucisse Chablisienne, Escargots, Gougeres and Frites with everything. Babies to Grannies are all here. Speeches on loudspeakers going on and on and on! And more 'la la la clappiness'.
But hey, this is Feb 6th, the places is top to toe flowers and everyone is happy. That's good, isn't it.
Now we're in the old Toyota bus racing south to Ste Colombe/Castillon, just passing Limoges, the sun's come out, sky is blue, good rocking Blues on the radio.
Moments like this were, I remember, when I made my mind up I was going to spend my whole life in this business. It was on those van trips down to Bordeaux for wine in the beginning! 40 years on, still its "Kansas City here I come, gonna get me some etc" blasting the speakers. Rock on Bordeaux Direct. This is the life all right.
La la la indeed.
Town is shut to all traffic and.... heaving! Everywhere the paper flowers. Even floating on the river. Two years work apparently.
You buy your tasting glass for €5 and the cradle thing to hang it round your neck for another €. And you look for the wine stands. But there are just five - for all this lot - and of course the French don't do queuing! Bit of a ruck. And it's only one wine! The 'Cuvée Saint Vincent 2009' blended from every Chablis available, by 'The Committee'. It's very good. But I think our Laithwaites and STWC Festivals are a bit more exciting.
How many times can you taste the same wine? Well, lots.. from what I could see. After all you need to wash down copious amounts of Andouillette, Saucisse Chablisienne, Escargots, Gougeres and Frites with everything. Babies to Grannies are all here. Speeches on loudspeakers going on and on and on! And more 'la la la clappiness'.
But hey, this is Feb 6th, the places is top to toe flowers and everyone is happy. That's good, isn't it.
Now we're in the old Toyota bus racing south to Ste Colombe/Castillon, just passing Limoges, the sun's come out, sky is blue, good rocking Blues on the radio.
Moments like this were, I remember, when I made my mind up I was going to spend my whole life in this business. It was on those van trips down to Bordeaux for wine in the beginning! 40 years on, still its "Kansas City here I come, gonna get me some etc" blasting the speakers. Rock on Bordeaux Direct. This is the life all right.
La la la indeed.
Sunday, 6 February 2011
St-Vincent Weekend
Arriving back at the hotel I ask the others if we are having a nightcap or just going to bed. They point out it's half past seven and we haven't been out to dinner; we've been out to lunch. In Chablis. The St Vincent lunch with 1300 friends in a big tent. That's Burgundy for you.
La...-la,
la...-la,
la la la la la..-la
La la la
La la la
La...
La...
La.
Sorry about that it keeps coming over me. Chablisians keep chanting this. Waving hands and clapping. No idea what it means but they really love doing this.
We arrived at the lunch after a huge tasting Chez les Dampt. The three brothers Dampt; our most important - and best - suppliers in Chablis. Located up at Collan. Did our work. Then off to the lunch in the big tent.
Twelve thirty. Table with the three brothers, helen Mark, Henry, me and some cousins. Served with the Chablis Saint Vincent Cuvée 2009; a blend for this weekend's events. A very big blend as they are expecting 40,000 or so tomorrow for the Fête, and everyone gets a few glasses of this. Waiters and waitresses march with military precision, napkins over left arm. The terrine, the rich cassoulette of coquille St Jacques like a sort of pie, the veal noisettes and just keeps coming with different wine or wines for each dish. All very slow. So you chat and have time to cope with all that wine. The Chablis, then the Premier Cru's, then the Grand Cru's , some Irancy for the cheese, all beautiful.
There is the odd speech of course and the la la la clappy thing. Then a little old chap in a white suit and rather obvious toupee comes on with his trumpet to lead his orchestre. Shades of Eddie Calvert and his Golden Trumpet. Or the Billy Cotton Bandshow. Very traditional; our Chablis. And the girls! 'Les Filles du Moulin' wearing masses of feathers that in no way cover their nubile bodies. Scenes of old chaps leaping up, then being dragged back to 'sit'! by wives. Especially during the Can-Can! Such a splendid tradition! Such splendid....
And it's half past five with dessert, coffee and a glass or two of Marc still to come.
But you've met so many people. Who were they? I do remember Chris Watson came over; international lawyer, owner of a few good acres in Chablis, and father of the famous Emma.
Many others, much happiness. It's a glorious, great party. Not at all as formal as the Chevaliers de Tastevin dinner I did last autumn.
This is just winegrowers having a nice long shirtsleeve lunch like they do most weekends. With the bare bottom dancing on tables and Eddie as extra. It's an honour to be here. I can't remember it all, but what I can remember I'm sure I'll never forget. Goodnight.
La...-la,
la...-la,
la la la la la..-la
La la la
La la la
La...
La...
La.
Sorry about that it keeps coming over me. Chablisians keep chanting this. Waving hands and clapping. No idea what it means but they really love doing this.
We arrived at the lunch after a huge tasting Chez les Dampt. The three brothers Dampt; our most important - and best - suppliers in Chablis. Located up at Collan. Did our work. Then off to the lunch in the big tent.
Twelve thirty. Table with the three brothers, helen Mark, Henry, me and some cousins. Served with the Chablis Saint Vincent Cuvée 2009; a blend for this weekend's events. A very big blend as they are expecting 40,000 or so tomorrow for the Fête, and everyone gets a few glasses of this. Waiters and waitresses march with military precision, napkins over left arm. The terrine, the rich cassoulette of coquille St Jacques like a sort of pie, the veal noisettes and just keeps coming with different wine or wines for each dish. All very slow. So you chat and have time to cope with all that wine. The Chablis, then the Premier Cru's, then the Grand Cru's , some Irancy for the cheese, all beautiful.
There is the odd speech of course and the la la la clappy thing. Then a little old chap in a white suit and rather obvious toupee comes on with his trumpet to lead his orchestre. Shades of Eddie Calvert and his Golden Trumpet. Or the Billy Cotton Bandshow. Very traditional; our Chablis. And the girls! 'Les Filles du Moulin' wearing masses of feathers that in no way cover their nubile bodies. Scenes of old chaps leaping up, then being dragged back to 'sit'! by wives. Especially during the Can-Can! Such a splendid tradition! Such splendid....
And it's half past five with dessert, coffee and a glass or two of Marc still to come.
But you've met so many people. Who were they? I do remember Chris Watson came over; international lawyer, owner of a few good acres in Chablis, and father of the famous Emma.
Many others, much happiness. It's a glorious, great party. Not at all as formal as the Chevaliers de Tastevin dinner I did last autumn.
This is just winegrowers having a nice long shirtsleeve lunch like they do most weekends. With the bare bottom dancing on tables and Eddie as extra. It's an honour to be here. I can't remember it all, but what I can remember I'm sure I'll never forget. Goodnight.
Saturday, 5 February 2011
Chablis; Fleys and Maligny
Coming from the north you roll through hillside after hillside of green pasture and corn until suddenly, cresting the last rise it's all - totally all - vines; your map reading down the back roads has worked....Chablis!
Show Henry the steep vineyard of Les Clos Grand Cru where he had his first close encounter with vines (aged about one minus) when we stopped for a picnic on the way south. Well they say you have to teach them young. It worked though; he lives in his vineyards now !
Chablis town is all girlied-up with flowers in its hair... covered... coated end to end in paper flowers of every colour and shape for the 'St Vincent Tournant'..party starting tonight with the 'Bal'. Sadly don't think am up to Bals today. Not after a 4 am start.
Out to Fleys and the Domaine de la Mandeliere for our first tasting. Get the impression 2010 is one of the 'leaner greener' years (although with unusually strong alcohols). But that is not off-putting.
To dumb down Burgundy/Chablis whites to an appalling degree; they come in two styles;
1) the big, fat, rich ones they make after hot summers - which you enjoy as soon as you can because they are just so easy to like - good just on their own, no food needed ...now!
2) The leaner and greener ones made in cooler summers which maybe not everyone likes because they are a touch tart - but which with a nice bit of fish, oooh, perfection. However they have a big plus; you can and should put some away for a few years. For these green ones evolve in amazing ways whereas the riper ones often don't. It's the acidity that allows this development; keeps them fresh for years.... amazing lengths of time allowing lots of new flavours to emerge.
If you've understood all that, I'll now add that after a couple of tastings today there are so many exceptions to the above that maybe you should forget it all.
Wine was never simple. Especially in Burgundy.
Chablis, if it was done the Bordeaux way, might have a few dozen Chateaux. But it's Burgundy so there are THOUSANDS of wines all vinified and bottled separately. Here, they so treasure the subtle differences between each tiny plot.
We go on to Maligny and a couple more suppliers. Seguinot - Bordet... Very impressive range of'10's... 23 tanks. Not a single dud.
Jean Francois kills me, nearly. Has this clever mobile tasting table to make it easy for us lot - spittoon and glasses wheeled round with us. So we are hands free to write. Brilliant. I want one. Only one problem ... After 20 or so wines you can lose concentration and in mid-conversation you can lean on this table. What you get then is a Del Boy moment as table shoots away and you ...can look very stupid indeed. Nothing new there.
Early goodnight. Big Day tomorrow.
Show Henry the steep vineyard of Les Clos Grand Cru where he had his first close encounter with vines (aged about one minus) when we stopped for a picnic on the way south. Well they say you have to teach them young. It worked though; he lives in his vineyards now !
Chablis town is all girlied-up with flowers in its hair... covered... coated end to end in paper flowers of every colour and shape for the 'St Vincent Tournant'..party starting tonight with the 'Bal'. Sadly don't think am up to Bals today. Not after a 4 am start.
Out to Fleys and the Domaine de la Mandeliere for our first tasting. Get the impression 2010 is one of the 'leaner greener' years (although with unusually strong alcohols). But that is not off-putting.
To dumb down Burgundy/Chablis whites to an appalling degree; they come in two styles;
1) the big, fat, rich ones they make after hot summers - which you enjoy as soon as you can because they are just so easy to like - good just on their own, no food needed ...now!
2) The leaner and greener ones made in cooler summers which maybe not everyone likes because they are a touch tart - but which with a nice bit of fish, oooh, perfection. However they have a big plus; you can and should put some away for a few years. For these green ones evolve in amazing ways whereas the riper ones often don't. It's the acidity that allows this development; keeps them fresh for years.... amazing lengths of time allowing lots of new flavours to emerge.
If you've understood all that, I'll now add that after a couple of tastings today there are so many exceptions to the above that maybe you should forget it all.
Wine was never simple. Especially in Burgundy.
Chablis, if it was done the Bordeaux way, might have a few dozen Chateaux. But it's Burgundy so there are THOUSANDS of wines all vinified and bottled separately. Here, they so treasure the subtle differences between each tiny plot.
We go on to Maligny and a couple more suppliers. Seguinot - Bordet... Very impressive range of'10's... 23 tanks. Not a single dud.
Jean Francois kills me, nearly. Has this clever mobile tasting table to make it easy for us lot - spittoon and glasses wheeled round with us. So we are hands free to write. Brilliant. I want one. Only one problem ... After 20 or so wines you can lose concentration and in mid-conversation you can lean on this table. What you get then is a Del Boy moment as table shoots away and you ...can look very stupid indeed. Nothing new there.
Early goodnight. Big Day tomorrow.
Friday, 4 February 2011
A26 near Chalons - en-Champagne
When Henry and I set off from home at 4.20am we surprised a small herd of roe deer on the village green. Right on the cricket square!
Dover, Tunnel, and A26 to here. 11.20am - Chalons is the place where we landed at the airport one time (in the days when I was a bit flash and hired planes to get round faster). Thing is I'd asked the pilot to take us to a r/v at the other Chalons ... in Burgundy. Boy did that airport have a good laugh. Stupides Anglais! Red faces all round.
Anyway, we have another hour or so of road to Chablis where we meet with Helen and Mark (from Le Chai) to visit a few growers. Tomorrow is St Vincent's Day. Patron saint of winegrowers. And it's the big party in Chablis. Will let you know how it goes.
Hope you all got the latest list today in the post. Let me know what you think but I think it's wonderful. Just too much temptation!
Dover, Tunnel, and A26 to here. 11.20am - Chalons is the place where we landed at the airport one time (in the days when I was a bit flash and hired planes to get round faster). Thing is I'd asked the pilot to take us to a r/v at the other Chalons ... in Burgundy. Boy did that airport have a good laugh. Stupides Anglais! Red faces all round.
Anyway, we have another hour or so of road to Chablis where we meet with Helen and Mark (from Le Chai) to visit a few growers. Tomorrow is St Vincent's Day. Patron saint of winegrowers. And it's the big party in Chablis. Will let you know how it goes.
Hope you all got the latest list today in the post. Let me know what you think but I think it's wonderful. Just too much temptation!
Thursday, 3 February 2011
Back again
Sorry to have left you so long, but in my absence Helen and Anne seem to have provided much more exciting and wine-relevant words than I manage most days.
Anyway, all rejuvenated, no longer feeling I'd be lucky to see out the month, plunged back in yesterday.
Behind on my writing so head down and scribble piece about upcoming sailing of our Chai's brilliant 2009 Castillon by river and sea to London. I had to explain ....why? And why I've done it before. Twice.
Takes much thinking and deep thought. Luckily Max calls to remind me am due in office to meet some of my lovely girls.
Yep, this guy has all that wine plus all these girls and gets paid for it.
With Niki, it’s website; shows me the latest on the new site due soon which looks so different and ... really useful. Says people are now actually reading my blog (so must keep on) and watching the videos... though Hugh's outselling me three to one. Yes, well.
Then Susan comes to talk shops and events. Many people are only vaguely aware we have shops. That's going to change with Susan. Many people were not aware of our Travelling Wine Circus (not actually what we call it ... just the way I see it). Again, that will change. As you'll see tomorrow when you get the latest List. Or 'part-list-part-magazine' as I now see it.
Featuring 'TV's lovely Oz Clarke'... instead of me! Like that French chap last time.
What is this? You take a little holiday and they swap you for a Celeb. It’s a 'one-off', Oz. Push me too far and I'll tell the world about some goings-on at the Vintage Fest in your youth).
Then, a lovely girl who's been with us, thick and thin, success and disasters, for 32 years comes to say goodbye. Tears all round.
Then Susan, Anne, Abi and more - with even a bloke or two - for this week's planning on The Great Claret Voyage.
Then with Emma to see the upcoming List/Mags and get my writing orders. Work work work.
But there is more daylight. Have you noticed? It’s just started to show. At last.
Visit laithwaites.co.uk
Anyway, all rejuvenated, no longer feeling I'd be lucky to see out the month, plunged back in yesterday.
Behind on my writing so head down and scribble piece about upcoming sailing of our Chai's brilliant 2009 Castillon by river and sea to London. I had to explain ....why? And why I've done it before. Twice.
Takes much thinking and deep thought. Luckily Max calls to remind me am due in office to meet some of my lovely girls.
Yep, this guy has all that wine plus all these girls and gets paid for it.
With Niki, it’s website; shows me the latest on the new site due soon which looks so different and ... really useful. Says people are now actually reading my blog (so must keep on) and watching the videos... though Hugh's outselling me three to one. Yes, well.
Then Susan comes to talk shops and events. Many people are only vaguely aware we have shops. That's going to change with Susan. Many people were not aware of our Travelling Wine Circus (not actually what we call it ... just the way I see it). Again, that will change. As you'll see tomorrow when you get the latest List. Or 'part-list-part-magazine' as I now see it.
Featuring 'TV's lovely Oz Clarke'... instead of me! Like that French chap last time.
What is this? You take a little holiday and they swap you for a Celeb. It’s a 'one-off', Oz. Push me too far and I'll tell the world about some goings-on at the Vintage Fest in your youth).
Then, a lovely girl who's been with us, thick and thin, success and disasters, for 32 years comes to say goodbye. Tears all round.
Then Susan, Anne, Abi and more - with even a bloke or two - for this week's planning on The Great Claret Voyage.
Then with Emma to see the upcoming List/Mags and get my writing orders. Work work work.
But there is more daylight. Have you noticed? It’s just started to show. At last.
Visit laithwaites.co.uk
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