Longstanding readers of this blog may recall that our beloved border terrier Martha gave birth to 5 puppies on Boxing Day in 2010. Actually to be really accurate she gave birth to 4 puppies on Boxing Day and 1 more on 27th December 2 hours after all the others.

All of the pups went to good homes except the last-born ‘Rocky’ who we kept. We’re not sure Martha is delighted about this situation – there have been a few distinct sideways glances – but mother and son have established an Entente Cordiale and rub along well enough.

Martha and Rocky

It is hard to imagine that it in just a year the mole-like blob that we weighed tentatively on the kitchen scales everyday has grown into the bouncing beast that we now possess but at least he has plenty of vigour and vitality. Rocky is never going to win prizes for brains or looks (he has a kinked tail and an under-bite both of which are disdained by professional breeders) but he is very affectionate and enthusiastic and that counts for a lot.

And what of his siblings? Jezebel, the smallest and sharpest puppy was the only female and a perpetual escapee from the wooden enclosure that we erected in our sitting room. She now resides happily in the Academy Club in Soho where she is doted on by her adoring owner Mandana. Bobby, the biggest puppy by far (who we originally nicknamed ‘Fatty’) also lives with friends in London and has, on occasion, bumped into his sister in the park. Sparky, who had a fluffy red coat, has moved to Devon to enjoy coastal walks with a very outdoorsy young family and last but not least Alfie, the middle puppy in both weight and birth order, lives just down the road in Frome and enjoys chasing after his brother if ever they meet on a walk.

Jezebel and Mandana

So I’m happy to report that 1 year on there are still ‘Five Alive’ and all are doing well. Would we do it all again? Of course not – Martha would never forgive us!

Rocky

I inherited from my father a passionate interest in wine and an almost complete disregard for any sort of competitive team sports. We’ve enjoyed many fine bottles together but have never bonded on the terraces. Needless to say my own sons are avid football fans and in the absence of any paternal motivation have become passionate matrilinear ‘Gooners’ – their Mum’s family hail from Islington and follow the fortunes of Arsenal FC.

Fortunately for them Alfred (13) and William (10) have a kind uncle who is sympathetic to the yearnings of young footy fans. This Christmas Tom managed to procure tickets to see Arsenal play Queens Park Rangers at the Emirates stadium on New Year’s Eve. As this was their first proper visit to their team’s HQ (I had parsimoniously taken them previously to admire the stadium from the outside) they were naturally excited. Suitably clad in a festive haul of red and white regalia we caught the train to London and met up with Uncle Tom for a bite of pre-match lunch.

There were ample photo opportunities on the way into the ground and there was an upbeat atmosphere amongst the gathering Gooners. The boys were happy to oblige the request of a cameraman from Arsenal TV with a rousing cheer of ‘Come on Arsenal’ as we set off to find our seats. These, it turned out, were amongst the best in the house, right on the half-way line behind the press box with a great view of the back of Arsen Wenger’s head.

If truth be told it was a bit of a scrappy game but Arsenal had the best of it and secured a deserving win when Robin Van Persie (who else?) finally found the back of the QPR net in the 60th minute.

At the end of the match we said thanks and goodbye to Tom and wended our way back to the West Country to celebrate the year end suffused in the glow of tribal victory. Who knows I may yet develop a taste for this football malarkey but don’t ask me to explain the Offside Rule or the advantages of a 4-4-2 formation!

The end, I hope, will be celebrating in the spa town of Bagnères-de-Luchon on Saturday 14th July, Bastille Day. However, the substantial Ying for that Yang is that I aim to have cycled 197km over the Pyrenees’ finest climbs after leaving Pau that morning.

Along with several pals and around 7,000 other riders, I have committed to another Etape du Tour – where amateurs tackle a stage of that year’s Tour de France. The Etapes are never a walk in the park, but this year the organisers have really shown a sense of humour by picking possibly the toughest day of the entire three week professional tour to test the hoards of enthusiasts.

Here’s the profile of this fearsome day out.

The beginning was on Monday 2nd January with a couple of laps of Richmond Park. Legs a bit heavy, much work to be done.

• Weight: 14st 4lbs (equivalent 200 lbs or 91kg)
• BMI: 25
• Training miles in 2012: 22!

I’ll report back in February!

There’s always been a bit of debate about when it’s best to finally put Christmas in the past and just get on with what the New Year may bring. Personally, I’m a huge fan of the “New Years Day tear down” but my children (and wife for that matter) are always reluctant to consign Christmas to the family history vaults once again.

So, as always, there’s always a balance to be found.

I’ve always enjoyed finding a use for something after I’ve used it first time round – on Christmas Eve I’d stocked the cellars (well, my wine rack to be precise, I’ve yet to broach the subject of a cellar with my wife) with all I needed to execute my culinary plans through to New Year (the Châteauneuf du Pape: Le Vieux Donjon Rouge 2008 was spot on with a rib of beef on the big day it’s self and my perennial accompaniment to Thai green curry and sticky rice Alsace: Gewürztraminer 2007 proved a great hit on Christmas Eve).

The Yapp box that had served me well over the holidays, I’d happily worked my way through the selection with family and friends, then came into it’s own once again: an ideal way to safely keep all the Christmas decorations safe until next year. Who knows, I might even use the box for my Christmas wines in 2012!

If, like me, you do need to restock – don’t forget our New Year Sale runs until 9th January, and we now deliver orders the next working day.

Happy New Year!

[ed. There is some debate as to when 12th Night actually falls. From The Guardian: "The Church of England plumps down firmly on 5 January as the Twelfth Day of Christmas, and therefore the evening of the 5th as Twelfth Night. This difference in dates is said to have arisen because centuries ago 'days' began at sunset and night-time was considered part of the following day. So if you start counting at sunset on 24 December, the twelfth night afterwards is 5 January. But when using today’s system and starting days at midnight that puts twelve nights on from the 25th as the evening of 6 January." New Years Day sounds just fine to me...].

Regrettably I find myself increasingly shocked at the cost of modern living particularly when entertaining my children. You practically have to take out a mortgage to go to the cinema these days never mind 10 pin bowling or a restaurant. My sons aged 13 and 10 will only tolerate galleries and museums in small doses (which must be genetic) so I am always on the look-out for inexpensive family entertainment. Fortunately, they share my penchant for street art – or ‘graffiti’, depending on your viewpoint, the appreciation of which is virtually cost free.

‘Banksy’ is the most celebrated and one of the most prolific practitioners of the genre although the authenticity of some works attributed to him is hotly disputed. A paperback copy of BLT – Banksy Locations and Tours, by Martin Bull, is a worthwhile investment at around £10 and will facilitate some definite sightings, but part of the appeal of street art is its ephemeral and transitory nature – some entries will have disappeared but new pieces appear all the time too.

Say what you like about the cost of living in the 21st century, public transport in London is inexpensive for children and kids enjoy jumping on and off tube trains and buses. The Clerkenwell and Farringdon area around Smithfield and Exmouth markets is an old Banksy stomping ground and we had great fun tracking down some of his earlier work in the locale. Some of these are pretty faded now but many are still recognisable and Alfred and William were keen to be photographed alongside some vintage originals.

Once you have got a feel for the type of sites favoured by street artists (which seldom detract from any natural beauty) it is surprising how many pieces you spot. There is no substitute for just ambling round the Metropolis with a camera. While walking through Bloomsbury during half-term we found this pristine rat picture, already preserved under Perspex, and a group of American tourists were politely queuing to have their photographs taken with it.

Of course Banksy is just one of many street artists and we enjoyed finding works by lots of other illicit illustrators too. Although street art has many detractors it does have tangible benefits – it’s free to view, brings in valuable tourist revenue and it keeps kids entertained for hours on end!

When friends and relations celebrate birthdays and anniversaries I often amuse myself by investigating the vintage in question and finding out what type of wine, if any, it was good for. If the research is fruitful you can then have more fun trying to source a bottle from that year as a topical gift. The first part of this task is made relatively easy by my indispensable “Pocket Guide to Wine Vintages” by Michael Broadbent. The second part is budget dependent and normally involves calls to specialist merchants or a thorough browse on the internet: www.wine-searcher.com is a useful and user-friendly web-site for locating rare bottles.

Some people, like my godson (1990 great for just about everything), sister-in-law (1970 a classic Claret vintage) and elder son (1998 terrific in the Rhône, especially the South) have the sense to be born in indisputably good years where decent bottles are readily available albeit at a price. Others, like myself, (1967 widely indifferent) are less lucky but there is nearly always something of merit somewhere, provided one is prepared to delve and diversify. In my own instance, although ’67 was a so-so vintage in Bordeaux, the sweet wines of Sauternes were uncommonly good. The astronomical sum I paid for a half-bottle (still undrunk) of the peerless Château d’Yquem 1967 is still a source of bitter argument in the Yapp household!

If one is unlucky enough to be born in a truly dire vintage – 1984 is the most recent real stinker (being bad for Bordeaux, Rhône, Burgundy, Champagne, Port, Italy, California and just about everything else with the possible exception of Australia) – then an ability to think laterally is useful. Anyone celebrating a fiftieth birthday this year will have to dig deep to buy any 1961 Claret as it was one of the best vintages of the 20th Century. Two bottles from the prolific (and underrated) 1986 vintage, totalling 50 years together, might make for a more affordable alternative.

If you’re really stuck, as those celebrating eighteenth birthday’s this year might be (1993 I’m afraid), spirits such as malt whisky or Armagnac often age well, while being less vintage sensitive. Alternatively one can buy Tawny Ports, brandies and even rums that have been aged 10, 15 or 20+ years in barrel but don’t actually state a year of production. For the truly aged, fortified wines like Port and Madeira are more likely to retain some youthful vigour in the long-term.

A few years ago I was privileged to meet Anthony Barton of Château Léoville-Barton in Saint Julien, a wine-making hero of mine. We tasted through several recent vintages and he told me he was born in 1930, a notoriously poor year in Bordeaux – of which Michael Broadbent says simply: “Bad weather, bad times, bad wines”! He then explained to me with a mischievous twinkle that he always chooses to celebrate with the vintage of his conception – 1929 was a very good year.