Don Whillans has an iconic significance for generations of climbers. His epoch-making first ascent of Annapurna`s South Face, achieved with Dougal Haston in 1970, remains one of the most impressive climbs ever made
- but behind this & all his other formidable achievements lies a tough, recalcitrant reality: the character of the man himself. Whillans carried within himself a sense of personal invincibility, forceful, direct & uncompromising. It gave him sporting superstar status
- the flawed heroism of a Best, a Mc Enroe, an Ali. In his own circle, his image was the working-class hero on the rock-face, laconic & bellicose, ready to go to war with the elements or with any human who crossed his path on a bad day.

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What happens when you relocate to the perfect house, in the perfect village in Provence, & nearly ten years later the shine has gone? Garden designer Alex Dingwall-Main is facing lavender fatigue, strife at home, neighbourly warfare & non-paying business clients. He is on the verge of packing his bags & starting all over again, back in Engl&. Until one Spring day he is offered an opportunity by a wealthy & very grateful client; a treasure hunt for 12 bottles of exquisite French wine. It would be a journey through the country`s finest vineyards, chateaux & villages. With a hangover & an uncertain heart, Alex decides to give it one more try & sets off in search of the France he fell in love with so many years ago. The people, the gardens & the wine that he encounters make for an adventurous & beautiful summer, & life-changing decisions are reached... ...

For generations, Argentine wine was famously bad
- oxidised, unpalatable & often mixed with a low-class French grape called Malbec.
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Smithy is a retired shearer turned vineyard worker in his autumn years. It is hard graft, but Smithy has always worked with his hands. Physically all but destroyed after a lifetime of hard liquor, but now sober, he begins to see the world with new eyes, a meditative, singular figure in the town's bar on rowdy Friday nights. But clarity can be a curse. Finally confronting his past, overwhelmed by long-buried feelings of regret, nostalgia & loss, Smithy steps in to help a young woman in a desperate situation. A cautious friendship develops, but Charlotte's husband is widely suspected of murder, & Smithy begins to fear that he will pay a high price for his gallantry. Written with an authentic music, & infused with beauty, brutality & sadness The Vintage & the Gleaning is a compelling observation of men, women & country. A remarkably accomplished debut novel. ...

It is one of the simplest acts in our life, but some people are committed to it, others do their best to avoid it. This collection tries to cover all situations we can find ourselves walking in, bringing together fiction & non-fiction, early & contemporary walkers, ramblers in the countryside & strollers in cities, walking for the soul & marching for freedom. It is a most pleasant & interesting read & as many of these anthologies do, through the filter of a very simple theme, shows us the infinite variety of human nature. ...

Hollywood lawyer Danny Roth is the proud
- & sometimes boastful
- owner of a fantastic collection of wines, the best vintages

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” It is hard not to be swept along by Adoree`s enthusiasm for the past...”
- Sunday Times Style Magazine This is a mini version
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” The Vintage Tea Party helps you plan not only stunning recipes for all sorts of delicious treats but also gives you countless ...

Burgundy, 1808. One night Sobran Jodeau, a young vintner, meets an angel in his vineyard: a physically gorgeous creature with huge wings that smell of snow, a sense of humour & an inquiring mind. They meet again every year on the midsummer anniversary of the date. Village life goes on, meanwhile, with its affairs & mysteries, marriages & murders, & the vintages keep improving
- though the horror of the Napoleonic wars & into the middle of the century, as science marches on, viticulture changes, & gliders fly like angels. Longlisted for the Orange Prize for Fiction.
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After his son Pablo dies before his second birthday from a rare & aggressive form of infant leukemia, the author writes this poignant account of unending love & hope. The foreword is its best description: ” This book is a dictionary with a single entry. It is the search for a word that does not exist in my language-the word for a parent who has watched his child die. Children who lose their parents are orphans, & those who have to close their spouse`s dead eyes are widows & widowers. But we, the parents who sign the documents authorizing our children`s funerals, we have no name, no civil status. We remain parents forever. Parents to a ghost who does not grow, a ghost whom we will never pick up from school, who will never fall for a girl, who will never go to college, who will never leave home. A child who will never upset us & whom we will never have to scold. A child who will never read the books we dedicate to him. The fact that there is no word to describe us means we are condemned to live always in a violet hour. Our watches have not stopped, but they display the same time again & again. Whenever it seems that the second hand will force the hour hand to make the leap forward, instead it slips back again to where it started. We are stuck in no-man`s time, stuck in our own redundancy, within which we call up this fantastic & unlikely story, this cheap tragedy filled with all the tricks of an inexperienced screenwriter, the story that trapped us here in the first place. I evoke it in writing. I recall this year of my life in the hope of fixing the story in place, of making sure it never shrinks into a cliche. My son Pablo was ten months old when he was first admitted to the hospital, & was nearly two when we scattered his ashes. It is this stretch of time that makes up our violet hour. It is this stretch of time that makes up this book, which contains all the words I need to give a name to my condition.” ...