Red Wine Armageddon very nearly happens to the great white sofa. I accidentally knock a stemless glass of red wine off my desk and in a split second it pours down onto my jeans and the floor, splashing an art class masterpiece of dark red splatters (a full red colour with magenta overtones, quoth the label) up onto the back of the sofa a foot away. This is by no means the first glass of red wine I have spilled recently. I am beginning to suspect there may be something in the stuff that impairs my motor skills. The wine in this instance is Spanish and hails from the Catalonian region of Terra Alta, which appears to mean either Earth High or High Earth. Standing there in black denim half-soaked in delicious High Earth vino, I note with a terrible gravity the freshly polka-dotted sofa back and I actually exclaim OH NO like a frantic hausfrau and then prepare for my better half to deservedly murder me where I stand, to murder me and chainsaw me open and take out my fucking soul and spread it on a soda cracker. However it doesn’t take long to register that the large off-white knit blanket that we have draped over the sofa back has proven its quality and heroically shielded the virgin white sofa fabric from 100% of the wine stains, which consist of a beguiling mixture of cabernet sauvignon, garnatxa, tempranillo, merlot, and syrah, and which turn black when Shout is profusely applied to the brave blanket and mostly disappear upon rinse. The sofa survives unscathed, as do I. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed.