Drinking Midnight Wine

This is of course the title of one of Simon R Green's quirky books, thematically related to his slightly creepier novel Shadows Fall. But it's also akin to the sensation one gets when sipping Hungarian wines, accentuated when you look across the cellar and see some Romanian wines which you are sure shouldn't have anything to do with Romanian consular staff, hit-and-run accidents, and mysterious goings-on in civilised side roads.

You wonder about the Magyars. You wonder about why Romanian sounds (and looks) so much like Catalan. You would like to blame miscellaneous Turks and Macedonians and Roman auxiliaries. You sip. And the wine sips you.

There is something about amber sweetness that recalls summers long gone or imaginary in nature. The bracing fruit of the midnight red (well, it's really purple) is something else altogether. You sip. And the wine sips you.

Suddenly, you wonder about that Romanian wine again, and the madness of moments that takes life from the silent streets. You wonder about justice and life and death and venality and incompetence. You sip. And the wine sips you.