Went to dinner the other night at the National Liberal Club where we were debating that "The Internet is too important to be hamstrung by morality". It was an interesting discussion with many in favour of governments regulating this anarchic means of communicating.
 
I am not: the difficulty is that one culture's titillation is another's pornography, or, as was pointed out, we merely frown on adultery (or some of us do) whilst it is actually illegal in others.  Also, I want to be able to find out what's really happening in Zimbabwe or wherever and not just get the official version.  You can install the filters at your own end.
 
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Anyway, the Club Claret was very drinkable, unlike many that I've had recently.  It was more like a traditional Claret than some of the fruit drinks I've met elsewhere.

We also decided that you really need to do business (or socialise) with people that you've actually met, preferably over a convivial glass of wine or two. That way you really get to know what they are like and whether you trust them.

So, I don't think dinners are at risk from the internet yet!

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Climate change podcast

Last week a picture was posted on Twitter of vines in Shabo, a large estate that lies to the west of Odesa on southern Ukraine’s Black Sea coastline. The image seemed benign at face value but the reality, of course, is that the city of Odesa has been bracing itself for attack by Russian forces. 

 

As COVID-19 conspires with the grimmest of winds and rain to force a societal retreat behind our own front doors, the word ennui springs to mind. The muddle of displeasure is pierced when Natalia hands me a large bulbous glass of a liquid I do not recognise.

 

 

Britain’s lamentable exit

On the eve of Britain’s official departure from the EU, my partner and I decided to explore a small town on the Italian Riviera where thewintry cold doesn’t feel so much like cold war bite.

I had warned my significant other that I would be having an inverse departure party, a release of the sanity valve if you like!

 

Sitting inside the ancient castle walls inside the town of Soave, a short drive from Verona in northern Italy, the unique slightly almond aroma of the indigenous grape, Garganega, rises gently from my glass. The castle sprawls up the side of an extinct volcano that gives the region its variant soil structures that mark out the better quality of Soave wines.

 

Tanisha Townsend decided to move to Paris 4 years ago after regularly passing through the city en route to the world’s most famous vineyards. In fact, it was about 2 years ago at the Printemps de Champagne Bouzy Rouge tasting in Reims that I saw (who we shall now refer to as) GirlMeetsGlass chirpily speaking to her web followers on Snapchat.

 

The cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, the final resting place of Saint James, rises out of the landscape, infested with antiquity. The rambling steep streets give way to shafts of dramatic light, emblazoned chapels, and tightly packed tapas bars, dusty, as old novels pressed together in antiquarian bookshops.

 

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