(Telegraph) - Pass it to the left, pass it to the right . . . just don’t pass up any opportunity to enjoy port, the mellow, subtle classic. We’re in the middle of a very beautiful nowhere. My mobile lost signal 15km back on a particularly aggressive hairpin bend. I can see vines balancing on the stern contours of vertiginous schist slopes, occasional flashes of the Douro river, flat as a mirror, and there, suddenly, Gillyane Robertson rushing out of the estate house to meet us. “Isn’t this weather ghastly? Come in. Do you mind dogs? That’s Lieutenant Sharp. He’s named after the Bernard Cornwell books. Now, would you like a drink or shall we have some tea? Mango tea? Or tea? I don’t really like tea, do you? So boring.”