Spent all my life looking for this, he said.
It hasn’t worked out. She goes her way, does her thing. She gives me only four days a week.
Are they good days?
Yes. But I want more. Total commitment.
You like wine, don’t you?
You know I do. What’s wine got to do with it?
What’s the one wine you’ve always wanted?
Grange Hermitage, of course. It’s the best.
You ever tasted it? Bought a bottle?
Ever berated a bottle of red for not being a Grange Hermitage? Ever stopped you drinking other reds?
Of course not.
Then let it go.
Let what go?
Your obsession with S. Or should I say your possession. You will never have the S you want. Enjoy the one you have. Allow yourself to be replete. From what you tell me she is a very, very good red. Stop thinking Grange Hermitage.
What is your wish? said the genie.
A cadaver of red, please.
A cadaver of red? Don’t you mean a cask or bottle? Or perhaps a magnum? I’ve had a glass or three myself. I’m feeling generous. How about a jeroboam — I’ve never granted one of them — or, maybe even, a nebuchednezzar?
No, thanks, mate. A cadaver of red, said the lazy vampire
I don’t know what Pachelbel would make of it but
When I’m put on hold for a wine club query,
His canon plays. Actually I’m a member of a number
Of wine clubs which may say more about me
Than Pachelbel whose canon plays as on-hold music
For each of them.
I would have thought Chumbawamba’s ‘Tubthumping’
would have been more appropriate, if less soothing,
or Roger Miller’s Chug-A-Lug or, for a bit of class,
Mario Lanza’s Drink, Drink, Drink but Pachelbel it is.
I don’t know If Pachelbel was fond of a glass
or two in the evenings
Or when he was composing his hypnotic canon.
He may have been a member of a wine club himself
In which case —excuse the pun — he would be tickled
Pink, especially if a Rose man.
when you are put on hold, are you annoyed or pleased by the music that is played?
have you ever discovered a song though being put on hold?
Not everything survived.
Got off scot-free.
The wine had turned to vinegar
The whole half dozen.
Bottle by painful bottle I poured
down the sink,
while through the side window
the sun gloated.