My name is Elva. I am Swiss, not Swedish as some mistake me for. An error which does tend to get under my skin. I cannot speak for Nordic technical engineering skills, however, I doubt they’ve reached the height of us Alpine people. Should you need convincing, simply glance in my direction. I insert large corks precisely and with little effort into glass bottles containing effervescent wine. What’s more, I gracefully wind wire hoods to secure the cork tightly and safely. I am few in number, built by hand entirely of stainless steel and brass.
Sadly, my place of birth does not require my skills. Such is often the way of things among my brethren. Will I ever lay eyes on my dear land of edelweiss? I know not. So with a heavy heart, I bid adieu. Auf wiedersehen, I cry!
Ils ont des pupitres? I stand saluted by proud oak riddling racks. Well, life has a way to surprise even the most jaded among us. Perhaps a deep ocean separates me from the Old World yet I notice my employer has certain appreciation for the way things used to be done. I find that very agreeable. I see it everywhere and not just things to do with sparkling wine. Outside, there is an old lady with a blue rinse who grunts and chokes black smoke when she starts up in the morning. Often, I hear her in the distance swearing, as the French are oft to do, as she drags heavy equipment up and down the vineyard behind her rather broad girth. Though not Swiss, she works hard and well. Her name is Birdie and I admire her.
I have a nice spot in the winery by a stone wall where I quietly do my work. There is even space beside me for a future colleague. My employer agrees with my assessment that a doseuse can dose and top up a bottle much more effectively than by hand. I hear the older models are quite beautiful. I look forward her arrival and shall certainly make her feel welcome here.