The black in black of the post-postgraduate’s eyes.
They drink the black wine. Grown from deep Newcastle soil. From the deep Newcastle terroir.
From underground vines? Fuck off. I don’t believe it.
It’s very potent. More like a spirit, really. It’s fermented in buried earthenware pots. The terroir enters into the pots. There’s a distinctive aroma, a special flavour. It’s malty flavour. It has a caramel sweetness and chocolate thing. It’s a bit nutty … With a hopsy flavour cutting through the sweetness …
Like Newcastle Brown …
Which was brewed pretty close to here.
And it’s served in earthenware cups made from Newcastle boulder clay.
So this is how they get their rocks off. This is what runs through the post-postgraduates’ veins. Philosophy fuel, right?
It’s not about getting your rock’s off. It’s part of a ceremony.
The black in black of the post-postgraduate’s eyes.
It makes the post-postgraduates look like they’re not focused on you. That they’re looking into the far distance.
The true Newcastle Brown was wine, not beer. And it’s really Newcastle black.
Work in Progress 