The rollercoaster is coming to a halt. After weeks (or was it months?) of high living, a brief New Year purge, then last week's flirtation with swanky, cellar-worthy bottles, the wine column is steadying itself. We're back to normal, everyday life - and modest, everyday plonk. But before you start sighing, let me reassure you. That needn't mean tolerating rubbish or - almost as bad - palate-numbing boredom.
Submerged in wine chat at Christmas parties, I spent a lot of time preaching a pluralist gospel to drinkers in two different camps. First there were the francophiles, dismissing the entire New World as a giant factory of brash flavours - a powerhouse of unsophisticated wines which no civilised persons should allow past their front teeth. This blinkered view is still so prevalent, and so ridiculous, that it merits a whole column to itself. In the meantime, francophiles, I'll just curb my exasperation and say politely: you don't know what you're missing. What about thrilling Australian Semillon, or meaty Argentine Malbec, or Californian Zinfandel from very old vines? What about the rest of the Old World as well, for heaven's sake. Spain? Portugal? Italy? Only grudgingly, if at all, do dedicated francomaniacs acknowledge that these countries occasionally produce anything worth drinking.
On the other side of the divide, the New World's fans can be intransigent, too. They're inclined to write off France en bloc, presuming its wines to be overpriced and uneven or downright unappealing. They've somehow missed all news of the revolution which has made the south of France - Languedoc-Roussillon in particular - the source of many of the most exciting, well-priced wines to hit the shelves in the past five years. Other countries are viewed with almost equal caution. And, within the New World itself, they may rarely venture beyond the best known grapes.
Why not try Riesling, Verdelho, Chenin Blanc, I shriek - or, in the red zone, Pinot Noir, Carmenere, Sangiovese, Syrah? Describing her ideal cellar in Oz Clarke's Wine Buying Guide 2000, Lucy Faulkner of topnotch London merchants Morris & Verdun, writes: "It is no coincidence that my collection contains not a drop of Chardonnay, Merlot or Cabernet, the world's three most predictable grape varieties."
That may be going a bit far - the famous trio wouldn't have grown so popular if they didn't quite often perform brilliantly. But she has a point. They've hogged the limelight for too long.
If all of this sounds a bit too prescriptive - well, it shouldn't and I'm sorry. Of course you should drink whatever you like. It's just that the whole world of wine has never before offered so much tantalising variety, while keeping prices down to the sort of level that may even make your average grey Irish February fun. Buy one or two experimental bottles. If you detest them and my path crosses yours at a party, it'll be your turn to preach mine to run.