I'm told that a flicker of anxiety – or perhaps just irritation – crossed the usually imperturbable feature of my old friend Michael Fridjhon at the press conference for his Trophy Wine Show. Some young pup had asked the very reasonable question of Marc Kent, Boekenhoutkloof's winemaker, why he was willing to judge in such an event – but not willing to put his own wines forward. Marc made it clear that while he was honoured to be judging, etc, etc, he didn't think this was actually a suitable way of judging wines – his, at least. He preferred his wines to be judged on the second half of the bottle, he said, rather than the first, a rather clever comment on the undrinkability of many super-sippers. I think he's now unsure if he'll be invited back next year.

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I had wondered if there might be something of a boycott of the TWS this year, because of the undoubted element of simmering anger at the additive-whistle-blowing activities of its joint proprietor. But self-interest seemed to prevail over principle, as self-interest so often does. The most notable absentee on grounds of this particular principle seems to have been Distell, who felt they had been specifically accused, and turned their backs in anger. (Though the message didn't filter through to quasi-autonomous Fleur du Cap.)

Was the gesture noticed? I suspect it must have been, because they would have  needed to buy some Edelkeur (along with other prestigious wines from fashionable producers which hadn't been entered) to be judged alongside the entrants, in that rather cheeky and bullying way they have. As I write, the ratings for these haven't been revealed, and Marc Kent is still unsure whether his distrust of the panel's capabilities was justified in the case of his wine (presuming that Boekenhoutskloof stuff was included). And because we are not told which wines were entered and failed to win medals, we will never know if it really bombed. 

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Another part of Michael's wine activities was mentioned a little while back by the Financial Mail, which told how he brokered a wine-producing deal between the renowned Mme de Lencquesaing of Bordeaux and Dave King, owner of Quoin Rock and whom 'many consider to be the bad boy of the SA business community'. Certainly, when it was being trumpeted forth that the eminent lady had acquired a Stellenbosch farm, there was no mention of King's involvement – and in fact the FM is very vague. But if it’s true, presumably Michael would have informed Madame that his pal's reputation is rather, er, controversial?

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My dear departed husband was once, on emerging from a plush restaurant, confronted by a raggedy thin person, who murmured brokenly that he hadn't eaten for two days. 'But that's terrible!' said my husband (his social awareness even more befuddled than usual); 'You must eat – force yourself!' This fond memory came to mind for no really good reason when I heard of the happenings around the Eat Out restaurant guide. It seems that top foodie Lannice Snyman and her team walked out, for reasons unfortunately left publicly unspecified, leaving the owners to scrounge around looking for some more food journalists.

I've actually always found Eat Out to be rather fuller of advertisements than of useful advice or opinion, but doubt if it's going to improve, given that others have now turned down the invitation to replace Lannice et al – leaving the guide with what is reportedly something of a B-team. I mean, it's fine to have Bullard telling me about cars, and Pendock about wine, but should I rely on their opinions about how successfully the chef ruins crême brulée with lavender or whatever?

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What chuckles there've been over the 'Woman Winemaker of the Year' competition! Most people probably haven't heard of this exercise in sub- (or is it pre-?) feminism, but the quality of the whole thing was made manifest when the emailed invitation went out. The 'organisers' obviously did their research into what constitutes a woman winemaker on a rather inadequate (not to say prejudiced) basis: looking at first names. Nicky's a girl's name, right? So let's send to Nicky Krone and Nicky Vers-feld, and also Dominique (sic) Waso and Lolly Lowrens.... I don't know if any of these rather masculine chaps entered, but they didn't win.

That doubtful distinction went to Ivy du Toit of Jason's Hill – whom one might have expected to be keeping rather more of a low profile these days, given all the post-additives-scandal mutterings about the pyrozemic character of her Sauvignon Blanc, which last year won the innocent hearts and palates of the judges of the Young Winemaker of the Year award. (Ivy has admitted to at least one person of my acquaintance that her 2004 Sauvignon doesn't look quite as good as last year's.)

Amongst the guff in the appallingly written Woman Winemaker press release, one sentence caught my wearily skimming eye under its raised eyebrow: 'The finalists all believe that wine is made in the vineyard.' Really, huh? Gosh. Let's charitably assume that they believe this tired old cliché; but if wine's made in the vineyard, then why is this silly opportunist competition for winemakers at all? At least they should make it for the Woman Viticulturist of the Year....

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Another press release is worrying me a little. It speaks of the renown of 'Plaisir de Merle, a member of the prestigious Cape ward of Simonsberg (Paarl Origin)....' If they're convinced of the prestige of Simonsberg-Paarl ward, why does the farm ally itself to the Vignerons de Franschhoek, I wonder, rather than Paarl Vintners?

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Even the wider drinks industry singles out women these days. I noticed a report of some international company offering 'shakes and smoothies aimed at menopausal women, a cider containing the hot Japanese herb, wasabi, and an artichoke-flavoured drink'. No mention of what is more sorely needed (if my experience of the sort of men available to even rather attractive widows like myself is anything to go by): a viagra-flavoured tipple for waning-testosterone men. Perhaps Ivy could knock something up for my next dinner à deux.

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Ah well. These days I'm ageing even faster and less gracefully than modern wines. Though the editor, who’d been shamelessly scrounging for people to say nice things about Grape, passed on to me a surely serious offer of marriage from one Raoul Beaumont. I’m considering it, Raoul. Has Jayne approved this step?

Till next time, unless senility or the lawcourts get me. Cheers.