Last night was one of the very rare occasions where I put my glass down and said to my dog “I can’t do this anymore” as usual Masham was attentive, polite, and obliged to beg for whatever was at the table. This is kind of a bum out, because I wanted to explore this bottle a bit more, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.
There’s a little bit of cherry on top, but the vinegar and sour palate were so off-putting, even after a good decanting and some rest, that I couldn’t really trace much else eventful. Incredibly astringent and harsh, so instead of using the rest of my allotted time for the day by talking about the fact that David De Gea, on a team of world-class legendary superstars and up-and-coming young guns, should not be one of the top players on his squad. The defense and midfield are an absolute atrocity at this point, and the whole dynamic seems thin and cold. Things need to change, and quickly. Much like my attitude and pouring the rest of this bottle down the drain.