The vineyard looked and felt exactly as it was; a back garden surrounded by high walls. In the centre of the garden were raised sandy beds with dozens of closely bunched, foot tall branches sprouting at every angle.
On the other side of the wall, rows of beautifully manicured Grand Cru vines sat taunting their unkempt neighbour. Only, the back garden I was standing in belonged to the house that is the modest headquarters of...
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