Text your personal sommelier.

I've worked in wine for twenty years — sommelier at the 2-star Raby Hunt, Rockcliffe Hall, all that jazz. I think it's hard to call yourself a sommelier out loud without sounding like a tw**, so let's forget the labels.

All you need to know is I bloody love wine. Not the poncy, swirl-and-spit, guess-the-vintage kind. The kind where you open something on a Tuesday night and it makes you stop and go “…what is that?” That's the feeling I chase. That's what I text you about.

Twice a week, you'll get a message from me. Not a newsletter — an actual text, from my actual phone. Two wines I'm genuinely excited about. Could be a Georgian amber wine that smells like your nan's garden. Could be something from a tiny producer in the Jura who only makes 200 cases a year. Could be a Texas red that has no business being as good as it is. I import a lot of this stuff directly, so you're getting prices most people can't.

Here's the thing that makes this different: you can text me back. Want a recommendation for a dinner party? I'll sort it. Looking for a special present for someone? Tell me and I'll find something. Want to see your favourite wine featured? If enough of you want it, everyone gets it at a price that'd make a merchant weep.

I opened Crush wine bar in Durham a couple of years ago and just got the keys to a second place with a proper cellar. So your wine lives there, climate-controlled, no charge, until you've filled a case. Then we ship it to you for free.

This kind of access — a direct line to someone who knows every winemaker worth knowing, free storage, direct import prices — it's usually reserved for people with land, lineage and names like Tarquin. I wanted to change that.

So welcome. Your cellar's ready. Text me anytime.