Back to Work - Part II

Day One. I am making the too-short journey from my home to the wine shop. Despite all attempts to keep my head clear and focus on the day ahead, my mind keeps drifting to that wonderfully quirky movie Sideways.

I am appropriately dressed and made-up. Because it would interfere with the delicate aromas wafting from the wine bottles open on the tasting counter I have reluctantly not worn any perfume and kept lipstick to a neutrally-coloured minimum. I have assuaged my 'bad mother' guilt by spending a quality morning with my somewhat bewildered children and the possibly even more bewildered Mr R.

The scene that is playing itself out in my head takes place at the first wine tasting stop of the film, the Sanford Winery. Miles is giving Jack an introductory lesson in wine tasting. At the end of the process he delivers his expert opinion of the wine (citrus, strawberry, passion fruit, asparagus and nutty edam cheese - what can it possibly be?) Clearly impressed by his friends knowledge and enthusiasm Jack declares 'you could work in a wine store'. Miles, who has a lot more on his plate than Wine Goose responds with a whispered 'yeah, that'd be a good move'. I break out in a cold sweat. Before I know it I have parked the car and doused myself in Eau Dynamisante. I take 10 deep breaths, plant my sunglasses on my head, and I march in.

The manager greets me less deferentially than in the past. As the shop has been busy earlier in the day he asks me to tidy up the shelves. I wander off and do a few laps of the floor. Then I settle down to the task of rearranging bottles and use the opportunity to familiarise myself with the wines I don't know. There are lots of them, to my personal relief and professional horror. I keep my head down and ears pricked. The average customer is a lot more knowledgeable than I had anticipated, and has a lot more buying power. I am flabbergasted by the quantities being purchased. Then it gets busy and I am assigned to the till. The last time I stood this side of the counter was as a student working a summer job in a London pub. Back then I added up the round of drinks in my head, keyed in the total, and then returned the change - also calculated in my head. All so much quicker than scanning barcodes and knowing which combination of buttons to press to allow credit card payments. Thanks to recent experiences with supermarket self-service checkouts I am not wholly disgraced - only one customer asks if this is my first day.

There is an afternoon lull and the manager suggests it would be a good time for me to take my break. Break? Yes that's correct - I have half an hour to myself. Off I go to the local coffee shop and sit down in a comfy chair. I finish a large coffee before it hits freezing point, and read the newspaper from cover to cover; two things I last achieved over five years ago. Bursting with caffeine and enthusiasm I return for the second half.

While I am clearing glasses from the tasting counter a lady approaches and asks to try the Sancerre. I look around frantically but discover that yes, she is speaking to me. Before today I had imagined that I would spend most of my time at this very counter, discussing the characteristics and qualities of each wine on offer, with customers listening respectfully before offering their own thoughts. The reality so far has been that as soon as anyone looks vaguely interested in pouring themselves a glass I scuttle off to straighten up the New World section. But right now I have no option but to smile my 'what good taste you have' smile and pour a small amount into her glass. She takes her time to check the colour, swirl the liquid, sniff it,and eventually taste it.

'What do you think?' I ask brightly. I then go on to espouse its superb qualities - 'this Sancerre offers intense green fruit flavours with predominant notes of gooseberry. On the palate it has exceptional flavour intensity... '
'It's not bad, but not as good as...' she mentions a rivals offering. 'They have a really good Sancerre'.
I mumble my protestations - surely at this price you cannot find a better balanced example from the heart of the Loire Valley - but she is not for turning. In an attempt to salvage the situation I suggest she try the exceptional Rioja we also have open, but the lady is not a red wine drinker. She leaves empty-handed. Disappointed, I return the bottle to the counter and am taken aback when I see another open bottle of Sancerre. I remove the cooler wrap from the white we were discussing and am horrified to discover that she was not in fact tasting Sancerre, but the altogether steelier Italian Gavi. As we've already learnt from Miles, wine tasting is not an exact science. And as the sceptics say, a glimpse of the label is worth fifty years experience.

The day ends and the manager sends me off with a bottle to try at home. As I'm not really sure what I'm in the mood for, he inevitably suggests a bottle of Riesling. This time it's German. Loosen Doctor L Riesling 2006. Wine experts, affectionados, call them what you will, all rave about Riesling. I'm not there yet. Yes, I enjoyed it. What I liked was the slight sweetness (I think the technical term is 'off-dry') combined with a lovely, crisp acidity. I also liked that it is low in alcohol, at just 8.5%. 'Very drinkable, and very enjoyable at the end of a hard day's work' was the verdict of the exhausted Mr R. Widely available, €11.49