…sorry to break the news but the 2019 vintage is well upon us, as if you have not noticed already.
As I type this missive it is the end of the first week of January`19 and I am already exhausted. The main contributor to this state of exhaustive mind is no thanks to a company that goes by the name of FedEx. Not only did this (apparently) world class delivery company (rubbish) manage to mislay all (the majority) of our pre-Christmas deliveries, they have also been lying to me through their un-clenched teeth from a dam call-centre down on the Indian Continent somewhere. One of the deliveries, and the most important one of course (Murphy`s Law), customer wise and value wise that is, they managed to actually loose track of it entirely. Hours, days and at great (my telephone bill and central nervous system) expense they finally managed to find it in a warehouse in Hornsey (a bit closer to London apparently). It has taken them from 19th December until today, 7th January, to sort out the problem. Disgraceful if you ask me. The actual problem has still not been fully explained to me, but I have a feeling it has something to do with HM Customs & Excise (FedEx office), all paid up by us on the day of the import as requested by Customs on 19th Dec., and their total lack of inter-office communication with the FedEx clearance/delivery system side of things.
I reckon it would have been quicker and cheaper for me if I had flown all the way to New York and collected the three dam bottles myself, and hand delivered them to the client in London personally. So, I have just two words for them, Feic FedEx!. They can go and burn in hell as I never want to hear or deal with them ever again. And please suppliers if you do happen to use FedEx, please do not use them with me. We have a wonderful DHL account that works fabulously well now for 29+years and I cannot recommend them enough to you.
On another side of all these shenanigans, I bet this has something to do with the most boring thing to have happened in England since the invention of white `sliced` bread. Frekin boring feicing Brexit! that is. Thank God I do not have to listen or to read the tedious, repetitive news from London, about what could or should be one of the most exciting National projects since the summer of 1976. Petty, petty European political squabbling, and every reason for going it alone. Yet, like the Devil!, we should be leaving heaven to create a NEW one, and not a replica! Good luck to all Brits whichever side of the fence you dam well sit on. If you need to drown your petty sorrows I still have chunks of 2014 Claret for you to buy.
And now dear reader, for the best and most excitingly BORING news of all, please read the next blog, it`s great, and in the meantime may I wish you, and your emptyish wine cellar by now, a FeliX 2019 to you both.
A meal without wine is like a day without sunshine (or can also be know as breakfast of course¿)
Great news! The boring Goring is about to unbore itself, if that is at all possible after 108 years of Goringness. Mainly thanks to the splendidly named Chef, Nathan Outlaw who is in this moment transforming the old menu of Sardines on Toast, Cabbage soup, Beef stew and Cod Roe billinis to a festival of what is described as, a menu filled with sustainable Cornish seafood. On the wine side a plethron of classic Bordeaux and Burgundy is to be expected.
When I used to live and work in Pimlico, the boring Goring was an essential part of my week. Not only as they were wine clients of ours, but I used to pop in and take a coffee and read the newspaper in what for me was one of London`s great oasis`s of tranquillity, even tho`I only lived two blocks away. As a ditty, did you know that on the top floor there lived a woman (a lover of Mr George or Jeremy Snr. grand senior) free of charge for over 30 years until she passed away. Mr Goring left it in his will that this should be so. I love the gesture. The last time I set foot in the boring Goring was in 1985 when my mother, bless her cotton socks, had to give a talk on carriage driving in the Royal Mews, and she needed 100 `fresh` crustless sandwiches to offer HRH and his crew. Being the local chappy the task was left up to me to organise, and I used the Goring kitchen to prepare them for her. They were the best sandwiches I ever ate. Of course I had to have a nibble (a tester) of the crab and special sauce, the rare beef and horseradish and cucumber with cress. There were others too but I cannot remember them. I am sure Coronation chicken was in there somewhere.
Isn’t it wonderful to know that with a little effort, we can unbore the boring? Keep drinking great wine, otherwise we are going to remove you from the mailing list.