Yes, I know that this summer has been chilly and dismal, the poor little vines are still struggling to get their flowers set, and without a fierce, leonine August we'll be harvesting in the dredging gloom of November. Kent and Sussex are not yet the Loire valley, and they'll never be Australia. You can, though, ripen wine grapes here in most vintages; you can taste England in wine form. It's pure, poplar-slender and hedgerow-scented, a white wine of vivid, light-footed intensity which makes lovely summer drinking. No one else in the wine world can do that. We belong. And now, at last, we're beginning to do it professionally.