Nayan Gowda can be reached via email::
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Saturday 20 July 2013
My crazy life, gets crazier
A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of being introduced to Jancis Robinson (HRH, from now on) by our mutual friend, Maggie Rosen (who I do a bit of work with from time to time).
HRH and I had been on nodding terms for a number of years (in fact we almost brained each other going for the same spittoon at the same time last year), but I don't believe a word was spoken, apart from the usual wine trade pleasantries ("You spit first", "No, please; after you" etc; or, at least, as close as you can get with a mouthful of wine).
Anyhoo, in the course of the brief conversation at the tasting (Beaujolais 2012, if you must know), I happened to drop the fact that I had run a winery in Kazakhstan (well, you would too; wouldn't you), and HRH mentioned that she was updating the Oxford Companion to Wine, and would I be interested in editing the Kazakhstan section. I naturally said "Hell, yeah!"; well, I actually said "Yes"; but that's what my brain was shouting.
Anyway, a few days later, I receive an email from HRH asking me to meet her for a chat. Now, receiving an email like that is akin (in my eyes, at least) to being asked to visit the headmistress's office.
So, the day duly arrives and we sit, and we chat. HRH asks me a number of questions, and I'm just my usual flippant and casual self. After about an hour and a half, I ask, "may I ask... why are you asking me all these questions?". The reply came, along the lines of "I'm going to write about you in the FT. Is the 20th of July OK with you?".
Do you remember the scene from Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, where Nick Moran walks out of the poker game having lost 'arf a million knicker? Leaving HRH's house that afternoon was kind of like that for me.
Oh, and that article? You can find it here http://www.jancisrobinson.com/articles/a201307101.html
HRH and I had been on nodding terms for a number of years (in fact we almost brained each other going for the same spittoon at the same time last year), but I don't believe a word was spoken, apart from the usual wine trade pleasantries ("You spit first", "No, please; after you" etc; or, at least, as close as you can get with a mouthful of wine).
Anyhoo, in the course of the brief conversation at the tasting (Beaujolais 2012, if you must know), I happened to drop the fact that I had run a winery in Kazakhstan (well, you would too; wouldn't you), and HRH mentioned that she was updating the Oxford Companion to Wine, and would I be interested in editing the Kazakhstan section. I naturally said "Hell, yeah!"; well, I actually said "Yes"; but that's what my brain was shouting.
Anyway, a few days later, I receive an email from HRH asking me to meet her for a chat. Now, receiving an email like that is akin (in my eyes, at least) to being asked to visit the headmistress's office.
So, the day duly arrives and we sit, and we chat. HRH asks me a number of questions, and I'm just my usual flippant and casual self. After about an hour and a half, I ask, "may I ask... why are you asking me all these questions?". The reply came, along the lines of "I'm going to write about you in the FT. Is the 20th of July OK with you?".
Do you remember the scene from Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, where Nick Moran walks out of the poker game having lost 'arf a million knicker? Leaving HRH's house that afternoon was kind of like that for me.
Oh, and that article? You can find it here http://www.jancisrobinson.com/articles/a201307101.html
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