I Get Through Four Corkscrews

In the new year, planning ahead for January, I ordered six half bottles of wine from the excellent wine merchants, Tanners, just down the hill from where I live tanners-wines.co.uk. I find the 375ml size just right for drinking alone - enough for a weekend supper with some to spare: a splash in the pot, more in a glass, and then a bit more. I make up for quantity with quality, but what I didn't foresee was that I'd need almost as many corkscrews as wine bottles. 

Just for a change, risotto was on the menu last week, so I needed to open a white. Risotto without a dash of white wine is like risotto without a dash of white wine. The thing about buying quality wine is that it still often comes with a cork. My first attempt snapped my best, if elderly, corkscrew. My second snapped my reserve corkscrew. I checked the other bottles of white - no screw tops. I went up  into the attic to find my camping corkscrew - it was nowhere to be seen. As I rummaged through my camping detritus - pots, a pepper mill, torches, and plastic plates, I imagined it buried in a field in Wales, sprouting miniature bottles of Sauvignon Blanc. 

Back in the kitchen, I pulled at what was left of corkscrew #1. I regretted not working out more regularly during lockdown. I have started grinding coffee beans by hand once a day, but this doesn't seem to have increased my upper body strength. I need levers, physics, and fewer reminders of my weaknesses. I abandonned thoughts of risotto, turned to omelette and beer. The protein might build me up. 

What else to do next, these lockdown days, dear reader, but get onto Amazon, order a corkscrew for next day delivery. How quickly that's become the first next thought. And now you'll be admiring the restraint which prevented me from using my teeth, but criticising my ethics and undermining of local businesses. I confess I panicked. The town centre was dark and quiet. The sight of the bottle with twisted metal stems protruding like mutant flowers felt like a problem which needed an immediate solution. 

Corkscrew #3 was delivered as promised the next day (I received notification) but wherever it arrived it wasn't on my doormat. After an undignified online chat with Jed, whose looping conversation suggested to me that he may (or may not) have been a person, I had a much better idea. I phoned a local kitchen shop, and yes, the owner was in, sorting stock, and yes, after much rummaging and commentary about the rush on corkscrew supplies, she said they had one left in stock, and were allowed to sell it to me at the shop door if I could come straightaway. 

I'm struggling for an analogy here, but like a .... [furrowed brow] ... like a ... oh I don't know ... like something coming very fast out of a tight spot, I shot out from my front door, masked up, sanitiser in my pocket, and 15 minutes, one conversation about corkscrews, and one contactless transaction later, I was triumphant, in possession of corkscrew #4. 

As I walked back home, and past the shop I live next door to, I glanced through its glass door. The Christmas decorations were still up, and the tree lights twinkling. And there, on the floor, was an Amazon package, addressed to me.