A bun in the oven has meant that tasty alcoholic beverages are no longer the free-flowing extravaganza they once were. And this has made me somewhat more discerning when it comes to my weekly tipple. In short, if I am only allowed two small glasses of wine a week, then I’m not going to waste one of them on a wee-coloured Chardonnay, slurped from a dirty beaker in an over-crowded central London pub.
Oh no. These days I like to imagine that I quaff in the manner of an impossibly elegant and self-controllled Parisienne: in – mais oui – extreme moderation and style. In other words, the circumstances have to be just so.
Generally, a sweet German Riesling is the wine, just before lunch at the weekend is the hour, a comfy armchair or sofa the place. Light streaming through the window is a plus…. But, alas, if the quality of the glass is not up to scratch, none of this matters a jot. For the most important thing, I’ve discovered, when it comes to making the absolute most of my rare and precious pregnancy drinkie is a medium sized glass with an impossibly delicate, thin cut rim. It’s all about the slimline stemware, daahling.
Which is all very well, except that in eight months time (or there abouts), such refinement will no doubt be booted well and truly out the window in favour of a much needed smashup, at which point quantity will take precedence over quality with wee-coloured Chardonnay and roll-rimmed pub glasses all very welcome indeed – provided they come thick and fast. I can’t wait.