Open days and pruning lessons at La Clariere

It’s Open Days this weekend at La Clariere, our Bordeaux vineyard. Or 'Portes Ouvertes' as they say here. Henry and I are here to help Clare, Claudy, Helene, Olivier and the others do the visits and pour the wine. Mostly it’s local people. There are no holidaymakers at the end of November! Mostly they’ve lived in and around vineyards all their lives but they still love to come and learn more. And taste more. Especially taste. We get more than most. Maybe it’s that intriguing name they see on road signs but which their French tongues are unable to pronounce; 'Laithwaites' … Lacewhite? Lay-why-at? Lay Waste? 'Tony' is a lot easier. I always assumed they were just very informal here. But was wrong. They are formal but just cannot say my name.

It’s pouring down. Chats and chiens. So that's cut the numbers down. Pity, after all that work arranging the cellar with the work of local stained glass and mosaic artists. Numbers were right down for the 'pique nique'. But I ask you … a picnic in November in the rain!!! Was held in the village hall but was just forty winegrowers tasting each other's wine and eating all the steak.

I think the Cotes de Castillon needs a little marketing help.

Monday was better. It wasn't raining. Henry and I went for pruning lessons with Jean Pierre who sells grapes to Henry and has offered to teach him how to look after a vineyard in traditional Ste Colombe fashion. It’s for Henry's benefit but I go along because with a wife and son who both know how to grow grapes and make wine, I run the risk of becoming the least wine informed in the family. That would never do.

So I get to push the bonfire-wheelbarrow thingy while Henry is instructed how to select next years single branch or 'Aste' and a couple of 'Retours' which I guess might be 'spares'.

JP goes so fast. It’s a blur. I couldn't follow. He carries a small saw in the side of his boot. For the thicker bits. That'd get him arrested in Britain!

Noon we go down to Les Voyageurs for a hearty lunch. Choice is duck legs or choucroute. I have the choucroute which I love. The restaurant is full (it’s Market Day) so Mimi puts us in the back room where the regulars sit at two long tables. You go through the kitchen and salute Monsiuer Marchés who I believe is Mimi's husband, but not sure as he's completely deaf and I don't like to ask her and risk our relationship. Mimi runs the bar and looks like a little Piaf or Juliette Greco. He cooks all on his own. Amazing how he feeds maybe sixty five course meals every day from one big cooker and one big fire. They want to retire I know. But I love this place. I'd have it preserved forever. A monument. To the 'real France' that's almost disappeared.

Didier Grandeau joins us for lunch then drags us off to his homeland; Charente. Where Cognac comes from. We didn't need much dragging come to think of it. About an hour away. We go to meet the new Directeur of the Liboureau cellar. To keep the price down if we can. In face of a general shortage of white wine this year. He's at home today. Distilling! It’s the distilling season. His day off, he helps his family out taking a turn to watch the still. Nice work. You just sit by the warm furnace and watch the white cognac run out of the condenser. We sniff the new cognac but don't risk drinking it as it would probably remove a layer of taste buds at this stage of its life. Be better in ten years. So we drink the new Liboureau Sauvignon, which is very good but in short supply. Take a few publicity shots. Get a good deal.

We celebrate by going off to see Didier's old rugby mate who surprise, surprise is also distilling. Pass a little time with him and more Liboureau. I'm not driving! Then back to Castillon.

A day working in the Chai au Quai then home to Gatwick and Theale.
It’s Christmas. And we are busy. Thank you all. I was getting nervous.