My credit card company keeps sending me glossy
flyers offering me discounts on quantities of wine if I do this, that, or
whatever it is they want me to do to help them make more profit.
Aside from my obvious objection (which is obvious, isn’t it?) there’s this…
They always remind me – as if I needed any
reminding – that I’m not a fully paid up member of urbane, 21st
century western culture. I don’t drink wine. There’s something about wine that
turns me off. It exudes an atmosphere that has something to do with belonging,
and being acceptable, and being European, and going to dinner parties, and all
that kind of lifestyle stuff.
This should not be taken as some form of inverted
snobbery. I have nothing against wine as such; I have nothing against wine
drinkers as such; wine is fine. OK?
It’s just that wine doesn’t suit me at all. Scotch
suits me. Scotch has its origins in damp, peaty, wild places on the Celtic
fringes. Beer suits me. Beer has its origins in the bucolic roots of the
Germanic peasantry. That’s who I am, a mixture of Celtic and Germanic peasant.
My genome contains nothing that might be described as epicurean. Besides which,
scotch and beer are grain drinks, and I’m a grain fan, not a grape man. Wine
tastes of fruit. Yerghhhhh…?
So I manage a wry smile every time I deposit the
credit card company’s flyers in the recycling bag unread.
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