HAMBURG, the city that made the Beatles, where they learned, the hard way, the Darwinian imperative of the band: fix any song that doesn’t rock, or you’re going to get gobbed on. I am there for a less clearly rock ’n’ roll purpose – the Organic Cotton Roundtable. And I haven’t even left the hotel.

I had flown in on the last flight from London, almost missing the plane because, after a day spent pressing our NW6 wine, I had had the brilliant idea of taking the sour-smelling grape must from the top of the barrel and turning it into a batch of fresh vinegar. Job done, 20 litres worth, all sealed ...


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