Indulge me, it’s my birthday!
Barolo, you sexy beast, you. I first saw you on my travels to Italy when I was young and fanciful and only really liked two types of wine – red and white.
There I was, alone, vulnerable and staring into another empty glass of wine. That’s when you appeared. Dark and brooding, you stood tall and handsome in front of me with a stately world view, yet seemed too easy with a commonly rustic charm. Your breath was warm and savage; your scent strange yet wonderfully alluring. You came at me. It was strange and I was overwhelmed. What was this in front of me?
I was trapped. I wanted to run away but was somehow drawn back to your sweaty elegance. It was over; my lust could not be contained. Seconds seemed like hours, minutes turned into days – I had to have you, I had to have you now.
My Visa in hand I returned again and again. Soon I had nothing left. My craving for this ancient beast had left me with nothing but a hunger and a need for more. There was nothing left.
I decided then that the only noble and proper way to have my craving restored was to write a message in big letters on a white sheet and take myself down to Kennington to watch the annual AFL game and hold aloft my plea:
Barolo, you sexy beast, you. I first saw you on my travels to Italy when I was young and fanciful and only really liked two types of wine – red and white.
There I was, alone, vulnerable and staring into another empty glass of wine. That’s when you appeared. Dark and brooding, you stood tall and handsome in front of me with a stately world view, yet seemed too easy with a commonly rustic charm. Your breath was warm and savage; your scent strange yet wonderfully alluring. You came at me. It was strange and I was overwhelmed. What was this in front of me?
I was trapped. I wanted to run away but was somehow drawn back to your sweaty elegance. It was over; my lust could not be contained. Seconds seemed like hours, minutes turned into days – I had to have you, I had to have you now.
My Visa in hand I returned again and again. Soon I had nothing left. My craving for this ancient beast had left me with nothing but a hunger and a need for more. There was nothing left.
I decided then that the only noble and proper way to have my craving restored was to write a message in big letters on a white sheet and take myself down to Kennington to watch the annual AFL game and hold aloft my plea:
Send money now Mum!!!
And the wine, the Marcarini Piedmont Barolo La Serra 2001 - pure and utter perfection.
Drink till 2023
Drink with the curtains drawn and a little Barry White
100/100
Quality cork 13%v/v $90 five years ago
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