Whenever I bring this "little Bordeaux" out of the cellar, a discussion is inevitable, not heated, but definite. For once, there is no differentiation with my wife: "not a good wine". Full stop. Her otherwise well-formulated statements are never that clear-cut. In the worst case, she says: "I don't like this wine! I can accept something like that, but not so much her categorical rejection, which this time ends in the epilogue: "sour and without fruit". I probably expected something similar, even if I thought I had been particularly clever this time. To her question: "what good did you bring from the cellar?" I gave no answer, but went straight to decanting. A particularly beautiful carafe was henceforth its dress. I was convinced that I had outwitted her accumulated prejudices. Wrong! The comment - see above - came immediately and unmistakably.