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.