You know what it's like. You've spoken to your friends, everyone has packed smoked salmon and salad and loaves of bread. The hired junk is on a placid sea off a remote headland. The sun is shining and all is right with the world.
Let's have a glass of wine. 'Where's the corkscrew, Charlie?' The corkscrew? Haven't you got it, Annie? Bob? Susan? Anyone? Oh, the lamentations. So you end up trying to poke the cork into the bottle with a chopstick or attempting to cut through a cork of the consistency of hardened steel with a butter knife.
No more, says Adrian Sank, whipping out a bottle of Castle Crossing 1995, a lusty blend of shiraz, malbec and mourvedre, made by the large Alambie winery of northwest Victoria.
Wine merchant Mr Sank peels off the lead foil around the top of the bottle and with a twist of his wrist, pulls up a plastic handle inserted in the cork. Give it a tug and the cork pops out.
No more problems.
'Say goodbye to the corkscrew,' advises the head of Omtis wine importers. Devised by David Hojnoski, an American winemaker, the Kwik Kork changes centuries of wine lore. Opening the bottle has always been half the fun. Now it is reduced to total simplicity. No more struggles trying to strangle a recalcitrant cork.
Mr Hojnoski realised his invention had to satisfy two groups with very different views. It had to offer ease of use for the occasional wine drinker while still satisfying the aesthetic demands and traditions of the winemaker. He did both.