Here we go.  It seems necessary to say something profound in the first post, but who needs that sort of pressure, particularly when I will be able to count the readership on one hand. I may as well take the opportunity to explain how an occasionally rational person might come to plaster their name all over a wine label.  It will come across as narcissistic.  Indeed it’s already been pointed out to me, by someone I had met only seconds earlier.  Unfortunately my best excuse for this behaviour is that I couldn’t think of anything better, greatly exacerbated by a looming deadline for designing/printing labels.

The only other real contender was ‘Hall Vineyard’.  There were two problems with this.  First,  although I’m going to base the Yarra Chardonnay and Pinot on the folks vineyard, they may not have it forever.  I can imagine them selling the place, moving to a far away coastal location, where the hoards of grandkids can come and see them on occasion, but where they cannot possibly be coerced into childcare duties for a fifth day of the week.  I would become the proud owner of a wine company without a home.  Second, it’s probably the only name I could imagine that is more dull than my own.

And to my own name, tedious to my ear, and grating, like hearing a recording of your voice played back.  The only one thing I like about using it on the label is that there is nowhere to hide.  Putting your name to something that will be judged is nailing your backside to the mast for a public flogging.  Your reputation (currently worth little in my case), your company (worth even less), and the various facets of your ego (best not comment), are all lashed together, a trio of drunken sailors clinging to a sinking boat.  Time to swim or sink.