Monday, March 17: St Patrick’s Day. My father was born in Belfast before Partition, which technically makes me Irish. Didn’t feel much like celebrating, though, as my cold has gotten worse and even the idea of a glass of wine is not appealing, let alone a glass of Jameson (although I prefer Redbreast). Deborah is still away helping Annabel with the new baby in Vancouver and I’m baching it. Wrote my 680 wine reviews and spent an inordinate amount of time on the phone.
Tuesday, March 18: Wrote my Lexpert column on rosés based on the “real men don’t eat quiche” syndrome – but now they do. Sent off a couple of articles to the magazine in China I write for. The pieces appear in Chinese and I don’t know what they read like since they translate them and send me the copy when it’s published.
Wednesday, March 19: Wrote my Wines of the Week reviews. Had an invitation to be a keynote speaker at the 2015 Vitinor conference in Nebraska. They want me to talk about cool climate wine growing, using Nova Scotia as the model. Sounds like fun. Met with a legal firm to discuss the possibility of holding seminars for young lawyers on how to entertain clients and feel comfortable navigating a wine list (not reaching for the most expensive wine on the card to try to impress).
Thursday, March 20: Worked on the Ontario Wine Awards, locking in judges for the three sessions. Still haven’t had a glass of wine and am losing weight. Hate to think that this is a way to diet. Have not felt much like cooking for myself and have taken to reheating last night’s meal. Food doesn’t taste so great without a glass of wine. But tomorrow is a Vintages release tasting at the LCBO, which means I have to taste.
Friday, March 21: Was awakened by a loud thump at 5.45am. Pinot the Wonderdog had fallen off the bed. She was shaken and embarrassed so I took her out for a walk – otherwise she was fine. The Leafs are up to their old losing ways, which doesn’t improve my mood. Came home from the Vintages tasting feeling tired so I took the rest of the day off and read Albert Speer’s Inside The Third Reich, which is probably not the book I should be reading in my physical state. With luck my cold should be gone by the weekend.