On Not Loving Pinot Noir

A confession: I do not love Pinot Noir - there, I've said it.

We never actually fell out as such; with a reputation for ethereal beauty, I tried to fall in love but found I couldn't cope with the vanity, mood swings and expensive habits.

I went to PN's home and there, in context with all the family gathered, everything made sense for a while. But I couldn't stay and we drifted apart again.

Pinot Noir lovers are cat people; they are used to dealing with something that has a sense of its own superiority, that claws up the curtains, does not come when called and, whilst occasionally very prettily charming, only deigns to be so when in the right mood.

Fickle, unreliable and prone to mutation, PN seems to have multiple personalities - it can be light and pretty, pure and beautiful, earthy and characterful. It is said always to have a hedonistic, seductive side but is perhaps most often almost-very-attractive but not quite.

Drudging home from the station, keys in the door "What mood will it be today ?" I wonder, as I rock up once more chez Pinot Noir.

Will it be high heels and candlelit dinner - or a headache and how difficult the day has been ?

Pinot Noir's complexity and variety is partly the source of the attraction for many wine geeks - she responds minutely to her circumstances and surroundings, so there is always some new subtlety or nuance to experience.

But all too often - for me at least - she disappoints.

The younger sisters, sent away to find husbands, had to adapt to their new surroundings.

The Pippa Middleton of these was the one who went to New Zealand - she never quite showed the mix of Royal Elegance and aristocratic earthiness displayed by her older sister, but cut a very neat little figure in Central Otago and was even made to be reliable in the hands of Sir George Fistonich who managed to tame her mood swings and spending habits.

As for Chile, Australia and California, there is plenty of socialising, some flirting even, but no announcements in the Society pages of the broadsheets just yet.

Over-indulged, over-rated, overly sensitive, the Pinot sisters are just too high maintenance for me to fall in love with.

We hang out in the same circles and bump into each other occasionally. "How's it going ?" I ask; she responds, but I can tell she finds me rather dull; my conversation topics practical, mundane and deadly boring for her.

She looks into my eyes for a moment, a playful smile lights up her face and my heart feels like it's about to skip a beat. "Well, it was so lovely to see you again", she says and behind the smile, the unspoken words we both know "You never really understood me".

And with that she's off - gone. She sidles up to someone else. They chat - I can't hear the conversation, but the body language is intimate.

I look away and sigh inwardly.

When I look round again, I see they are dancing.

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