Today is last day at work for me with the Law Firm that I have worked for during the past year. Onwards and downwards tomorrow with my brand spanking new job at a company that produces enough wine for a small continent, but is somehow consumed annually by the 400 odd thousand alcoholics clinging to a rock, affectionately nick-named "Maltese". Well, they do export some of it but nowhere near the right amount to justify local consumption.

The post has the poncey title of "Brand Manager" and it apparently involves wearing a costume and turning up at the cellars at 4 every morning. In a ceremony full of pomp, splendour, and early-morning eye-crusts, I shall taste a random sample from each delivery truck leaving the cellars, certify it as meeting the standards of a groggy teetotaller(myself), and fall asleep curled up in a misty haze of early-morning inebriation. I shall then be woken up in time for lunch, stripped of my ceremonial costume by a small troupe of chambermaids, unfolded into a suit and tie, to spend the rest of the afternoon speaking to clients across a boardroom table over some more glasses of the finest vintage.

At some time in the afternoon that happens to tickle my fancy, a horse-drawn cart reminiscent of the early carriages used to transport wines at the turn of the century will pass for me and take me back home.
That is what my new job promises.
I'll let you all know if there should be any changes in the above schedule, but I doubt that there will be too much variation on what they described to me in purring tones, holding my hands while I signed the contract.