Cognac

As a rule, I love driving but the five hour jaunt to Thetford - primarily involving just two roads, the M6 and the A14 - is simply too boring. And the boredom is exacerbated if I'm driving after dark, so I set off late morning, which also gave me time to drop by and see the Minx and her very poorly foot, which is swollen after a bizarre incident involving a cocktail stick.

But even that pit stop was relatively early in the journey and I still had a four hour slog left ahead of me. I made a few 'phone calls, played some music (mostly old Electronic Ears playlists) and pondered whether the so-called 'weather-bomb' was going to affect my chances of getting back in good time tomorrow.

On this occasion, Mark was around, so I had an enjoyable evening with him, his daughter, and our friend, John. Mark's a great cook and he had made a madras, which we enjoyed along with a couple of bottles of wine.

Later on, Mark broke out this baby. I'm no great connoisseur of brandy or cognac nor do I have particularly sophisticated taste buds but Mark assured me that I should try it despite my worry that it would be wasted on me. (You can read about cognac production here: this one was a 'fine champagne' and eye-wateringly expensive.)

Mark has the kind of palate that can identify a grape and, often, the country a wine was produced it. My analytical skills are far more diminished but even I could tell there was something a bit special about this: something about the way the flavours emerged, maybe, and how it was both strong but totally smooth. And that, right there, is why I'll never be a wine critic!