Ooooops.

"God," I said to my Auntie who isn't really my Auntie, but who I call Auntie because she is Mama's best friend and pretty much family anyway. "Try this. I'm a bit impressed with my choice, even if I do say so myself." I handed her a glass of crisp, chilled Macon Villages. "They only stock American shite in their own stores. What a relief to be home and able to enjoy a proper glass of wine! I can't stand their rubbish. It's like drinking cat piss! Horrible, just horrible!" I took a gulp from my own glass and sighed contentedly. "Bloody good, this. Lovely. So much better."



Dad tapped me on the shoulder. "Just put this in the fridge will you darling?" he asked me. "Your Auntie brought it for us."



"Yes," Auntie-who-isn't-really-my-Auntie said. "It's a Californian white."



Naturally I couldn't speak after that. What with my stuck-up and pretentious foot in my mouth and everything.