It’s been a real winter: longer and more relentless than usual, with cold spells more reminiscent of the 1970s than the past few decades of global warming. Covid and the lockdown added a bite to the winter chill, a kind of forced hibernation of the kind our ancestors would have known only too well: nowhere to go, and nothing to forage.       

Especially not wine. The puritans of the National Coronavirus Command Council  made sure that things would be as bleak for the citizens as they were lucrative for their own well-connected cadres. By the time the alcohol ban was lifted, cellars were empty while the bootleggers’ bank accounts were full. Now is the time to stock up, before the Queen of the Zoll and her cronies contrive another excuse to drive their non-Covid agenda under cover of the Disaster Management Act.

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