ONE question I get asked often is 'You've tasted so many wines, so what's your favourite?'

My answer without fail: 'The one that I'm having with friends.'

It's not a cop-out. It's a truth I learnt from one of my superiors in the army when I was doing my full-time national service.

A man who did not mince his words, he once told a subordinate who invited him out for drinks: 'I drink only with friends.'

At the time I thought it was a little brusque, but it was a home truth, a soundbite that has replayed itself many times in my life.

Over the years, I have found myself in situations I did not enjoy, surrounded by strangers I did not like. On such occasions, I would drink as a form of distraction but increasingly, I could not find the alcoholic balm I sought to soothe the graze of said company.

It did not matter if the stuff served was top dollar. If the company was abrasive, or worse, boring, then no amount of refilling could save the day, or night, as it usually was.

On the other hand, even if it was plonk, an engagement of minds was enough to fill the moment.

Admittedly, when the stars are aligned, the combination of good friends and good wine can leave an impression that lasts for a long, long time.

For all the drinking that I've done, nothing has blasted me away like an evening I had at home yonkers ago.

Out of the blue, a friend rang to say he was coming over for a drink. When I said I did not have anything nice to offer him from my chiller, he replied he would bring something.

Not to disturb the rest of the household with our chatter, we drank in the dimly lit playground instead. It was not the best environment to entertain but we made the best of it with cushions and nibbles.

He made light of the Chateauneuf du Pape he brought and I could not read the label through the cling film the bottle was wrapped in. But when I had my first taste, it was as if my palate had been resurrected and gone to wine heaven.

All at once, I understood what it meant to drink great wine. It was textured with so many layers that putting words to them would not begin to do it justice.

And the finish was so, so smooth that my only thought was 'Mmmmm'.

I was so bowled over I kept the empty bottle for months, sniffing it every now and then as its spirit faded with time.

When my time is up, I would probably ask for another taste of Henri Bonneau's Reserve des Celestins 1989.

These days, I've rediscovered the pleasure of drinking water. It's the taste of my childhood, and for some reason, drinking Fiji Water brings me back to those days.

Its marketers will tell you that it's 'natural artesian water', that it is from the South Pacific islands, bottled at source at the edge of a primitive rainforest. For me, it's a reminder of my nanny. And that's pretty great for me.