There are a million reasons why I love the shit out of my mum, but by far the most important one is that she can always be relied upon to pour a very large glass of wine at the end of a long day (or a short day for that matter because whatever the question, fermented grapes are probably the answer). It's a de-stressing reflex action that I have enthusiastically enjoyed with her on numerous occasions over the years and one for which she deserves the utmost credit. For real, I have struggled to find another human who embodies the ideology of "wine not?" quite so effortlessly and wholeheartedly as she. If I ever doubt for a second that I'm my mother's daughter, a quick peek in the fridge on a Monday Friday night brings it right back in all its pinot-y, sauvignon blanc-y, glory.
