Having drunk far, far too much on Friday and only far too much on Saturday, I wondered whether Sunday night should be one of sobriety. My arm took some twisting, I can tell you. Claire piled on the pressure by asking "What bottle should I open?"
Blackberry it was and we drank it to French Onion soup - which is one of the reasons I asked Claire to marry me all those years ago. She won't divulge the recipe in case it renders her redundant.
The wine was as good as ever and the evening pleasantly dull. We each had a bath and I renewed my acquaintance with the computer. Being out of e-mail or Facebook contact for 48 hours makes me depressingly twitchy.