The noir in me.

I don’t have any hobbies. I don’t want any hobbies. I hate the concept of hobbies. The word reminds me of my childhood when each and every child would pass a book around to their friends and you had to fill in details about yourself. One line would always read Hobbies:. As a child it was quite easy - Mondays there was Ballet, Tuesdays and Thursdays Art & Crafts, Wednesdays flute or piano lessons. If you had nice parents you got the Friday afternoon off. I did most of these, but only half-heartedly. My passion was playing with my Barbies. But that wasn’t a proper hobby and couldn't be written down there.

I especially hated these books ever since I wrote in my friend’s that my hobby was cooking. I guess my handwriting wasn’t up to scratch, because instead of kochen he read kacken, which basically means taking a dump (sorry for a lack of a more prosaic word - you think of one, tell me and I will change it). So my hobby was taking a dump in the eyes of the guy I secretly had a crush on. Good one.

As an adult the concept didn’t necessarily become easier. These days people don’t ask for you hobbies, but ask you ‘what do you do for fun?’. I don’t know…drinking, eating, laying on the beach. Is any of that a proper hobby-esque activity? I do have fun doing them though.

So with the decline of the French German relations, I decided that it was maybe time for a new and proper hobby and to mingle. Realizing that it needed to be an activity that I already enjoy per se, but also learn something new, I signed up for a wine tasting course. Once a week over six weeks seemed like a perfect little introduction to get back into a hobby.

Today was the first meeting and over the course of the day I got a bit nervous. I felt a bit like a kid on the first day of school again. Where will I sit and are the other kids going to like me and will the teacher give us a surprise quiz?

I got to the Old Biscuit Mill and it was worse than I imagined. Not only a whole schoolyard full of kids I didn’t know, but they already all knew each other and had brought friends along. Luckily I am a grown up now and was entitled to a glass of welcome bubbly. First lesson learned - bubbly makes the world a friendlier, happier place.

Gathering all my courage I decided it was a better option to pick a seat first and see who would join me than having to sit in whatever seat was leftover later. I got actually lucky and was shortly joined by two girls who seemed nice enough and a somewhat handsome guy who I had been eyeing earlier (which never happens on a plane with my seat neighbour). We turned out to be a good team i.e. no spitting at our table and all glasses empty at the end of the evening for good weather.

On the programme a wine that I hate - Chardonnay - and a wine I adore - Pinot Noir. An interesting combination that promised for an interesting evening.

What did I learn? Alcohol is to wine what butter is to food. A little unhealthy, but you just can’t and don’t want to do without. I also know now that I am officially called an ABC (Anything But Chardonnay) girl, who can still be pleasantly surprised by the ‘but’, and an IIH (I’m In Heaven) girl for getting to taste the most divine Pinot Noir. We were also taught that Pinot Noir is a fickle grape. It's need this and that, but not too much. Likes space and to be left alone at times. And even if you think you are doing everything right, it may still turn its' back on you and spoil your harvest. If you get a harvest, the result is equally polarizing - some people hate it, most don't get, but if you love it, you will love it forever. I like that. It sounds like me.

The most important lesson I learned at the end of evening by a rookie mistake I made - never ever leave a wine course without buying a bottle to take home with you. It will leave you with a lingering sad aftertaste and just longing for more.