I’VE had a few laughs and bizarre moments during my career on this newspaper, but not many compare with a day I spent in the company of a dashing gentleman who goes by the name of Philippe Boucheron and was, at the time, our wine writer.

It was back in the mid-90s when, in an effort to capture new markets, pubs began selling wine by the glass. Instead of a bottle of brown ale, regulars were supposed to be clamouring for sauvignon blanc or something like it by the goblet.

So to test the strength of the wind, I accompanied Philippe on a whistle-stop tour of Worcester’s pubs. I followed in his slip-stream as he visited various city centre licensed premises to pass his verdict on the plonk served across the bar. The idea was that I write down his comments and compile a feature.

After a foray around suitably middle-of-the-road watering holes, Philippe decided to go for broke.

“Let’s go downmarket,” he boomed. “Which is the worst place you can think of?”

So I chose a name I have no intention of repeating here and we headed for it.

Now you must remember this was a hot day in mid-summer and our wine correspondent was elegantly dressed in a white suit and Panama hat.

He would have stood out at a Buckingham Palace garden party.

With his ample figure he resembled the Pilsbury Dough Boy and I feared that where we were going, he might get shot.

If such a thought occurred to Philippe he never let on as he banged through the pub doors like a gunslinger entering a Wild West saloon.

Assorted drunks lounged on the floor, there was a general stench of stale beer and fags and at the far end of the room a man in a ripped string vest stood behind the bar.

“My man,” demanded Philippe, pointing an authoritative finger as he hastened towards the startled figure, “I’ll have a glass of your finest white.”

The entire company looked as though they’d seen a ghost. Which was understandable. Expressions froze, hands paralysed around halfempty beer bottles and everyone was struck dumb by disbelief.

Eventually, with Philippe closer to him than I considered safe on health grounds alone, the vest spoke.

“We ain’t got no wine, mate,” he growled. “No matter,” rejoined PB, spinning on his heel like some white tornado. “I’ll be back when you have. Ciao.”

And we were out of there before somebody threw something. I often pass the pub and still smile about that summer day.

I relate the tale again because it came straight to mind when Philippe wrote to me recently about his latest venture.

Once the head of the most successful PR company in the West Midlands, he forged a later career holding wine tastings and dinners at hotels and restaurants across the UK. The idea was to educate and entertain and he never failed on either front.

But he’s 80 now and slowing down a bit, so Philippe is switching to holding bijou gatherings in the conservatory of his home in Droitwich.

“While hotels and restaurants need about 40 for an event, I am only looking for eight to 14 for tastings and 12 to 14 for a wine dinner,” he said.

“It will be a case of the right crowd and no crowding. Value for money will be the key, with overheads kept down and quality up.”

The wine dinners – with sparkling receptions and two wines and two or three courses of a fourcourse meal – will be cooked by award winning chefs such as Anthony Morgan, of Bromsgrove.

The tastings will also have a glass of fizz before the tutored tasting of six wines – three red and three white – accompanied by Philippe’s notes, followed by supper.

Among many plaudits to come his way over the years, he was voted the Wine Guild of the United Kingdom’s regional wine writer of the year in 1996 and wrote a widely acclaimed book Destination Champagne (Wine Destination Publications, £18.99) Philippe Boucheron is actually a nom de plume. His real name is Nick Mendes. He was born in London and his family’s best connection with France is that his father served there during the First World War.

However, his appreciation of fine wine began early. His parents always enjoyed a glass with their evening meal, by no means a common habit with British families in the 1930s, and there were always racks of bottles in the Mendes house.

His Uncle Joe – “Who was far wealthier than my father” – also knew his way around a wine merchants and helped Nick develop his interest.

Twenty one years wining and dining in the PR industry did nothing to stunt his vino development and it came to pass that Philippe Boucheron was born and wine columns began to follow.

So let’s raise a glass and wish him well for providing a top moment all those years ago.

There are probably still people who thought they saw a vision that summer day in Worcester. Ciao indeed.