Our Fathers

It is now late September and I started writing this piece as I headed out to Australia for vintage 2020. At that point in time, the devastation caused by the fires was uppermost in my mind and I could not have known what was about to happen. My thoughts then seem even more pertinent now and so I’ve edited it and decided to publish now.

Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.”

William Martin, The Parent’s Tao Te Ching: Ancient Advice for Modern Parents

Last week I sat down with a group of people, all of whom had either attempted suicide or had been bereaved by suicide. In a life filled with “important” meetings about sales targets, production plans and grape prices, this was genuinely important – literally, life or death.

What we ended up talking about most was not suicide, or any of the sad mechanics, but hope. When all but that last flicker of purpose or enjoyment has departed, we determined that the most important message we needed to carry with us, and convey to others is that there is always hope.

Over the last few months, many in Australia must have teetered very close to the precipice where all hope had been extinguished.

I talked to a grape grower last week who told me that, having finished fighting fires in NSW, he was now helping farmers, unable to do the job themselves, euthanize their badly burned livestock. As gruesome a spectre as this may be, the very fact that someone was willing to help with this task is testament to our faith and hope in others.

The devastation inflicted upon many vineyards and grape growers’ businesses over the last 2 months will have lasting consequences for the financial and mental wellbeing of too many people.

But, just as it appears that life cannot be any crueller, the warmth and generosity of the wine community constitutes a beacon of hope that we can follow in difficult times ahead.

Wine, as an alcoholic drink, is justifiably, criticised for the damage it can do to health and relationships. The risks of excessive drinking are undeniable. However, both in its ability to bind communities, be they physical or digital, wine is unique amongst alcoholic beverages. No other alcoholic drink is so inextricably linked to a place, quite often a very specific place. It is both a beauty and a weakness of wine that what nature bestows upon that particular place, will have such a profound impact on the product and those that make it. As the outpouring of support in Australia has demonstrated, those in the wider community are quick to recognise when those so dedicated to a place, need our help.

And in this groundswell of kindness, could we take another message? Is it that those who are rooted to the soil, inextricably linked to a place and dedicated to nurturing the fruits of one place are actually the most content, the happiest amongst us? Those that can learn to value the simple pleasures are the most fulfilled?

I am guilty of often longing to be somewhere else. At home, as my wife will attest, my mind is often wandering to a distant vineyard. No sooner off one plane but contemplating another journey. To an extent, disconnected from everywhere rather than firmly grounded. Like many, I’m in awe of those who understand the value of concentrating and committing to one thing, one place.

And hope? Well, even if in the gravest of crises, we can find a positive message, extract a learning that will aid our future wellbeing then there is hope.

I’m bereaved by suicide. My own mental health has not always been everything I want it to be and I’ve known 8 people that have chosen to end their life. I also volunteer for a mental health charity, helping them to the set the national objectives for suicide prevention by sitting on their “lived experience” panel.

I doubt that anyone will envy these qualifications but they do at least give me the insight to ask some relevant questions.

After my father and mother died in quick succession, my mother having taken her own life, I decided that I wanted to do something positive and this took the form of raising money through a wine label I created called Our Fathers. By no means a runaway success, I have been quietly donating money to various causes but, in particular, to suicide prevention in the UK.

I also spend a lot of time in Australia and had wanted to do the same there and, to those ends, approached mental health charities to give money to. Having been turned down 2 years ago, I’ve just tried again and received the same response. My offers to support have been universally refused on the basis that “they cannot support the irresponsible use of alcohol” through to “alcohol is a depressant and therefore they cannot have any association with it”

Sadly, after numerous attempts across different organisations, I have now had to concede that I cannot even give money away to most mental health charities.

Given that we face a mental health epidemic and that resources are more thinly stretched than ever before, why are they refusing my money? Why is a legitimate industry being excluded from helping its own?

I’m no apologist for the evils of alcohol abuse, seek no direct association or promotion and fully acknowledge the downside of alcohol abuse. However, mental health is an illness and it is not solely caused by alcohol – alcohol is often a way of dealing with it or a symptom of it. There are many people who work in the wine industry who have mental illness, and they would have mental illness if they worked in another industry. But, because they work in the wine industry they are both denied the support of their peers and the opportunity to help others.

Do the mental health charities in Australia that have denied my support also deny support from the food industry, from partisan media outlets, from social media outlets that allow online bullying or from govt bodies that have systematically neglected mental health?

So, for all those people that I have known and lost in the wine industry, I’m sorry that when it comes to supporting those like you, those in the know have decided that alcohol is the egg and mental health is the chicken.

“This is so far from a medical emergency, believe me” were the words that stuck with me from that night.

Almost 5 years to the day, I had gone to bed (thankfully at home in Edinburgh) with no symptoms or warnings. I woke at midnight with uncomfortable indigestion, so uncomfortable, for someone used to such things, that I sat up, belched and that seemed to relieve the discomfort. Two hours later, I awoke with the feeling that a rat was gnawing through my innards, I was clammy and panicked. Despite the fact that the pain was nowhere near my heart, nor any of the symptoms “classic”, I immediately woke Pippa and told her that I was having a heart attack.

Ambulance called, I writhed in agony for what I’m told was 8 minutes before the medics arrived and began to do their tests. There was indeed something irregular but they weren’t going to increase my anxiety by actually telling me what was happening at that point – as I established later on, they played down my condition for my own benefit.

I was able to walk to the ambulance, my wife left to sort out who could look after the kids before she could follow me in to the hospital. Some time later, when she arrived at the hospital, she was no doubt shocked by my deterioration. My brief journey to the ERI had not been a comfortable one, with a massive loss of blood pressure and an increase in the heart attack symptoms. When Pippa arrived I was not in great form, to put it mildly.

But I do recall that the care I got was excellent. They were quick to mitigate the immediate risk and get on top of the pain. I was in safe hands.

Later that morning I was given angioplasty which established where the blockages were and stenting to widen the arteries. My first question afterwards to the rather bemused consultant was “Will i be able to drink wine again?”

5 years on, I am still here and have enjoyed the odd glass of wine since. At a time when the true value of the NHS is being recognised by everyone (except our govt) I am so greatful to live in a country where healthcare is free at the point of use. Long may that continue.

Some of us are used to working from home and in many cases, this has been a personal choice. But even for those used to it, this enforced isolation is tough to deal with.

Throw in home schooling kids and increased financial stresses and you have a potentially damaging position for your mental wellbeing.

For those who are working from home for the first time, the stresses are exaggerated. Add in a lack of time structure, regular breaks, inactivity, distraction, anxiety and lack of interaction and you are closer to their reality. For some, this won’t feel like working from home, but working alone.

Our friends at SAMH have put together some useful tips for those struggling to adapt to home working and I’m happy to share those here.

In essence, working from home successfully is all about creating structure. Physically distancing the working space may not always be practical but some degree of separation is needed.

Work to set time periods, give yourself breaks and try and get some much needed exercise. This is going to be a marathon rather than a sprint but it’s not one that you have to run alone

http://ow.ly/bLOi50zHKB6

I’ll not have been alone in finding the last week hard. We’re still in lockdown, the kids really need to go back to school ( but we know that it’s not safe to do so) and my life this week has been entirely lived on Zoom.

My sleep is suffering, though it’s fair to say that it really hasn’t been very good since mum died. That memory, so easily distracted during the hubbub of the day reveals itself , etched at 2 o clock on my eyelids, has made restorative sleep elusive.

But it doesn’t take much. I awoke to a review of the shortly to be released 2018 Our Fathers Shiraz. Gary Walsh of http://www.winefront.com.au penned a wonderfully personal description of the wine that began with a poignant reflection on his own father. He also seemed to love our 2018, which helps.

Our Fathers is all about giving back, it is wine for good as I like to say. When I know that others not only like the wine but are touched by the emotion behind it, it is nourishing. And in these troubled times we all need some fortitude.

 

My wife, Pip, claims to have not known much about the story narrated in the box-office smash-hit, The Greatest Showman. Without wishing to spoil it for those who have not watched it yet, amongst the maddeningly catchy songs, the message clearly broadcast is one of seeking contentment close to home. Beware the dangers of always looking for more, seeking out the greener grass or the perils of “tilting at windmills”

The poignancy of this message was timely and not lost on me. The family visit to the cinema was as a treat to the girls, the day before I left for the longest harvest trip yet. Though my harvest trips are genuinely hard work, they are something that I look forward to and I love the buzz of harvest, the excitement of the culmination of the growing cycle and the birth of a new vintage. They are always tinged with a sense of guilt and sadness to be leaving home but this time it was different.

In the past, my departure has barely been registered : an untimely punctuation in their diet of Ipad nonsense and sylvanian fetishism. Perhaps tuning in to my own feelings of guilt and anxiety, my eldest daughter was very upset about my leaving. Irrationally worried that I may be eaten by a crocodile ( I have since almost stepped on the world’s most venomous snake!) and very rationally questioning why I could not make wine closer to home, the tears were in full flow.

In the face of such emotion and in the knowledge that my absence creates stresses and strains at home, one wonders whether my chosen path, like that of PT Barnum, is a selfish one?

I hope that it is not seen that way. I know that my presence and support during harvest results in greater wines and through Our Fathers, also provides support for a number of important charities. It provides me with an important outlet for my creative instinct and a cathartic outlet for the desire to work with my hands. I know that, without me, it would all be very different, if it existed at all.

This year, my family will join me in Australia for the end of harvest – something I am so excited about. I hope that they enjoy the big skies, the historic vineyards and sense that this is one of my happy places. I hope that this becomes one of their happy places too.

There is not a moment that goes by when my own mother’s suicide is not in my thoughts. Though the immediate trauma has faded, anyone who has been in a similar situation will understand that the questions endure, the anger and frustration occasionally bubble to the surface.

Last Monday I awoke to the news that someone I know in Australia had taken their life – very unexpectedly and without any apparent reason. Needless to say, those around him are devastated, racking their brains for apparent reasons, wishing that they could have foreseen it coming.

It brought back distressing memories but made me think about how lucky I was to be surrounded by people that supported and cared for me afterwards.

Not everyone is so lucky, counselling not always affordable or available. Our Fathers focus is currently on mental health and, with your support, we will continue to help those in their darkest hour as well as those who have to live through the aftermath.

Our Fathers is not only a delicious, critically acclaimed wine, but a tangible way of supporting those suffering from mental health issues and those around them.

Please continue to support Our Fathers by buying wine and recommending to your friends and colleagues.
Thank you.

Some would have us believe that all senses are equal. Some live their lives deficient in one or other senses while some, those synaesthetics amongst us, get their senses delivered to them rather muddled.

Those whose work demands an acute sense of smell recognise that smell is the most important sense of the lot. Smell stops us from eating foods that will kill us, it is vital in the ability to taste and to release life enhancing endorphines and it is highly important in the development of memories.

Unlike the rest of our senses, smell is hard wired to the areas of the brain most associated with emotion and memory. These most fundamental functions of the brain depend on smell and are responsible for the ability to hold memories, both positive and negative, for long periods.

I was reminded of this earlier this week in a most unglamorous way. I was making some lunch and upon opening a tin of tuna, was transported back to the age of 4. Our next door neighbour at that time, Joyce, had a cat and when she was away I would eagerly accompany my mum to go and feed her. The smell of that whiskas was rather similar to tuna!

Smell has the power to resurrect memories that you thought were long since forgotton and it has the ability to enhance any occasion by providing context.

I’m privileged to have spent time in the vineyards where the grapes for Our Fathers are grown and no glass passes my lips without vivid recollections of vineyard walks, scorched red earth and the faint hint of eucalypt in the air.

But you don’t need to have travelled to the Barossa to understand this. Open a bottle of Our Fathers, take a big glass, let it breathe. Make some awesome food and gather some great friends and soon you will be creating new memories that will always be linked to the smell of great wine.

And of course, you will also be helping someone else who is in less fortunate circumstances than you.

There was no overly large cheque, no cheesy handshake and widemouthed grin at the camera. There wasn’t even time to visit. The first charitable donation made by Our Fathers was, as is the nor…

Source: No Apostrophe in Fathers