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- 6 -

In the deep cellar under London

“Simon, Simon Braun!” There’s a knock at the cabin door numbered ‘six’. Balthasar Braun opens the door and sees a sailor standing before him, cap in hand. “Mr. Braun, the captain would like to see Simon on deck. He’s allowed to climb up into the sails.”
“Thank you! Dad, I’ll be on the deck!” Already, Simon is squeezing past his father and the sailor. Next, he runs up the stairs and presents himself to Captain Thomson. “Here I am, Captain.“
“Simon, you are now under the command of the first mate.” A few minutes later, the boy is climbing with the other sailors, lifting himself high into the sails …

At about 3:20 pm, the 'Repatriate' sails into the mouth of the Thames at Southend-on-Sea. She passes Canvey Island, Gravesend, Grays and Greenwich. The closer they get to London, the more ships they encounter on the Thames. There are also more and more buildings lining the riverbanks. Simon stands next to his father on quarterdeck and observes everything carefully. Captain Thomson displays outstanding control of the 'Repatriate'. He ably sails close to the wind, navigating around all the ships, barges and boats lying in his path.
At 10:30 pm, the brig lands at the London Surrey Docks quay. Dozens of people, coaches and carriages are waiting at the quay for the arriving passengers.
“Simon, look over there – it’s your grandpa! In front of the red coach – do you see him?”
Simon has only seen his grandfather twice before – two times that he can remember. But straight away he remembers the white-haired, patient man with the friendly face and broad nose. The grandfather has also found Balthasar and Simon in the crowd and is waving at them.
One after the other, the passengers leave the ship via its gangway. Captain Thomson is drawing on his pipe with pleasure as he stands at the railing and watches the goings on. When he sees Simon and Balthasar, he steps toward them and offers Balthasar his hand. “I hope you enjoy your stay in London, Mr. Braun.”
“Thank you, Captain Thomson. That was certainly an exciting trip over.”
“Not least because of your son. Simon, thank you once again for your service! You should stay exactly as you are! Should you decide to travel back to Oostende on my ship, my crew and I would warmly welcome you back on board, and would gladly see you back in the sails, Simon!”
“Thank you Captain. I hope we travel with your ship again!”, says Simon. He then turns to the gangway, runs straight up to his Grandfather Simon and throws himself into his arms.
“Hello grandpa, how are you?”
“Gosh, haven’t you grown, Simon? How was the journey?”
“A bit windy, but otherwise fine. Now I’m in London for the first time!” Simon’s eyes are beaming.
A moment later, Balthasar is also standing next to his father-in-law, Simon Hill. “Hello Simon, how are you?”
“Well. Balthasar, let me give you a proper hug for a change. It’s been a long time! It’s so wonderful that you’re both here.”
“Yes, luckily - after such a trip!”
“Did something extraordinary happen? Simon says that everything was fine.”
“That depends on how you look at it. But let’s just go home first. We are really tired. It was an exhausting day.”
Once the luggage and samples are loaded and everyone has taken his place, the red coach sets off on its way. It drives over Waterloo Bridge, through Lancaster Place, and then down The Strand and Southampton Street before going around Covent Garden and into James Street.
The massive, multi-storeyed red-brick building that Simon’s grandparents live in stands on the corner of James and Floral Streets. Simon especially likes the small tower from which he can look down into James Street and over at Covent Garden.

The next morning, Simon is woken by his father Balthasar, with whom he is sharing a room. A short while later they are sitting and eating a huge breakfast with Grandpa Simon, Grandma Mary, Uncle Charles, Aunt Betty and cousins Elisabeth and Janet at the big table in the room at the bottom of the tower.
His grandpa looks over at him and says: “Simon, you really showed a lot of courage when you rescued the sailor – you must have truly had your head screwed on right!”
Aunty Betty reckons: “Well, I never would have known exactly what to do in such a situation. What were you thinking, Simon?”
Balthasar can already guess what will come next: Simon will simply switch to a different topic. That’s what he did when he courageously leapt to save his brother, Christoph from being crushed under a falling wine barrel; and he did the same thing after having helped August Gieling to transfer his wine from one barrel to another.
“Aunt Betty, the tea is wonderful. What kind of tea is it?”
“That’s 'King George Tea' from Fortnum & Mason in Piccadilly. Your grandfather can tell you more about it. But tell us more about the sailor!”
Humming and hawing, Simon looks to his grandfather, who jumps to the boy’s assistance, saying: “King George is one of the finest of black teas, and consists mostly of the best Darjeeling blended with small amounts of sweet Assam and flavoursome Ceylon.”
“You always send my mum English Breakfast or the English tea blend 'Victoria’s finest'. Are they also from Fortnum & Mason?”
“Yes, Simon. All the teas we drink here are from Fortnum & Mason. I know the family that owns the shop and some of their management staff. If you are interested in tea, we can pay them a visit and you can get to know all the teas first-hand.”
“I would find that fascinating. Tea seems to have as many different kinds of flavours as wine.”
“Good. And when your father is busy visiting his customers, I will show you our wine cellar and our wines.”
Simon jumps up and steps towards the tower window to take a look down at Covent Garden. “Grandpa, those market stalls down there, are they always there?”
“Yes. Covent Garden is a market place. Its name comes from the words 'convent garden', which was an expression that used to describe the fruit and vegetable garden belonging to the abbey or convent of Saint Peter’s in Westminster. Today, Covent Garden is probably the most important market in England. Exotic spices, teas and many other things from faraway lands are on sale there. There is even talk of covering the market, with plans for permanent market halls so that it’s less dependent on the weather.
“That’s exciting! Can we also go there, Grandpa?”
“That’s enough now!” interrupts Grandma Mary. “Simon, sit back down and finish your breakfast!”

Once Balthasar sets off to visit the first customer of the day, Simon accompanies his granddad to the Hill family wine and spirit shop. The boy is overwhelmed. He knows the wines from the Rhenish Hesse region of Rhineland Palatinate, but what he sees here is simply unbelievable. The shelves are stocked with reds, rosés and whites from the French wine-growing regions Bordeaux, Burgundy, Alsace, Languedoc and the Loire Valley. There are Italian wines from Piedmont, Chianti and Emilia-Romagna, and wines from the German wine-growing regions Mosel, the Saarland, Rheingau, Rhenish Hesse and the Palatinate. There are even wines from Spain, Portugal, South Africa and California there.
“Grandpa, I had no idea that wine is produced in all of these countries. Is it made from the same grapes we are familiar with in Germany?”
“No, Simon. There are several thousand different varieties of grapes in the world. Different kinds are planted depending on the earth, climate and history of the place. Now let’s go down into the cellar.”
With a great deal of effort, Grandpa Simon opens a heavy oak door. Armed with two wine glasses and a jug, Simon follows his grandfather down the long, wide, stone steps into the deep cellar.
“Grandpa, how many rooms are there down here?”
“Lots. On one side, the cellar reaches far beneath James Street, and on the other it goes under the cellar of the building next door. We buy some wines and spirits in bottles and some in barrels. We then bottle the drinks that we've bought by the barrel here on our premises. Last night I spoke with your father and we agreed that I would show you the various drinks and let you taste them. But you have to promise me not to swallow any of it. Rather, you will have to spit it all out again. That’s why you’re carrying the jug.”
“And where do we start, Granddad?”
“I think Bordeaux is best. You know, we have a special relationship with Bordeaux here in England. That’s why Bordeaux wine is the best-selling wine in this country.”
“Why? Do they produce a particularly good wine? More red or more white wines?”
Through the marriage of Henry Plantagenet, who later became King Henry II of England, and Eleonore, the Duchess of Aquitaine, a large part of western France - including Bordeaux - came under British rule. Bordeaux’s citizens negotiated privileges with the English king, which meant that over the years they were guaranteed a kind of monopoly on the wine trade with England. In 1300, the Bordeaux wine fleet was made up of almost 900 ships, and about four million litres of wine were exported to England. When in 1453, after the Hundred Years War, Aquitaine became French again, the French king officially certified the Bordeaux citizens’ privileges. And to answer your second question, a lot more red wines are produced there as compared with white wines. Red grape varieties such as Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Petit Verdot and Malbec grow in Bordeaux.”
“How can anyone remember so many wines?”
“You know how the wines from Rhenish Hesse smell and taste and why they each have their own qualities. But if you, like us English, weren't able to produce much wine in your own country, and had to judge the wines you imported from the whole world, then it would be more difficult. You would do best to then fall back on the standards you have acquired. These standards should be universal so that you can exchange views with many different wine traders and connoisseurs. Such general standards based on appearance, fragrance and flavour, typicity, consistence and quality are our great advantage in the international wine and spirit business.

Hours and days pass as Simon spends time in the Hills' wine cellar, tasting and discussing the 'wines of the world' with his grandfather. In so doing, Simon looks very carefully at each of the wines by candlelight. He uses his nose to try and distinguish between the many different aromas, finding descriptions for them and remembering as many as possible. He then takes a small sip, draws a bit of air in over his tongue and swishes the wine to and fro, before spitting it back out into a wine jug.
He speaks with his grandfather about typical German and Alsatian Rieslings, Pinot Noir from Burgundy and South Tyrol, or the qualities of Bordeaux’s top red wine cuvée as contrasted with 'the aroma red wine bomb' from Australia. They speak about various soil structures, a vineyard’s optimal alignment with the sun, and the varying wine storage techniques in different countries.
Grandpa Simon, this calm, well-travelled man with his wide-ranging knowledge and his interesting stories, puts Simon under such a spell, that the boy is literally hanging on his every word.

I can still remember very well: The days I spent with my Grandfather Simon in the wine cellar were an unbelievable experience for me. The large assortment of impressions I gathered – of colours, fragrances, aromas and taste sensations – have had an impact on me to this very day. Never before in my life had I learnt so much in such a short space of time.
 
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