A friend was in town, who rebuts two instances of dull conventional wisdom. The first is that although Swiss Germans may have many qualities – they make excellent bankers – they have no joie de vivre. The Calvinist heritage persists. Second, that the Swiss are an implacably martial race. Other armies, especially the British, use humour to palliate the rigours of serving. The Swiss would be appalled by such frivolity, which may explain why no one has been in a hurry to assail their mountains.

There was a serious French restaurant across the border, so he borrowed a tank and set off

In both respects, Nick Sillich is a triumphant exception. He is also a fellow who puts the trench into trencherman. That explains why he was the last Swiss soldier to invade France. It was during his national service. The hour of lunch approached and he felt hungry, as one would. There was a serious French restaurant just across the border, so he borrowed a tank and set off. After doing full justice to the haute cuisine, he emerged to find some gendarmes resting their elbows on the armour plating, looking quizzical and sardonic. He was allowed to depart. Any potential outbreak of hostilities was averted. There was general agreement that his mission, though unorthodox, had been diplomatic.

But the grenouilles turned out to be spoilsports. They alerted the Swiss military authorities about this gastro-nomic foray. It may be that Nick would have been caught anyway. One assumes that armoured regiments have the odd roll-call, and someone would have clocked the fact that a tank had gone walkabout. Anyway, Nick was sent to the guardhouse. He says that the rations included a half-bottle of wine, which would do for breakfast.

On release, trying to behave, he drove his tank into a swamp. It was extricated and he was returned to the guardhouse. Orders then came from on high: since the end of the Napoleonic wars, the Confédération helvétique had built up a considerable reputation as a warrior nation. But as long as trooper Sillich was allowed to wreak havoc in the tank corps, this could be fatally compromised. For the rest of his time in the Swiss armed forces, he was never to be allowed near a tank. Whatever his unorthodox relationship with tanks, Nick is comfortable with other firearms and has killed a fair few chamois in his time. He is also a historian, who has studied the relationship between British imperialism in Africa and big game hunting, a topic more fascinating than fashionable.

But he is shortly to eschew la chasse in order to take his family to sea, sailing from the Balearics to New Zealand. Throughout clubland, there were protests. If we were to be deprived of his company for this voyage, he must be sent on his way with a good dose of grog. Red wine prevailed over rum, but fine bottles were procured. Should one risk a Bourgeuil Prestige? Although red wines from the Loire can last, this was a 1976. Would it have survived?

Very much yes. It was slightly over the hill and needing drinking up, but it had been a high hill. There was plenty of room on the downward journey.

At the other end of the age range, a Croix Canon 2016 was only just ready. The second wine of Château Canon, that prized and pricey St Emilion, it was a serious wine – subtle, gracious and seductive. Those who assess young vintages rate the Canon ’16 with a liberal use of superlatives. By all accounts, it ought to be superb when it reaches full maturity.

Another St Emilion, a Château Berliquet 2015, was entering its prime. Not well-known, it deserves a higher reputation. This all helped us to wish Nick and the rest of the Sillich clan calm seas, a prosperous voyage and an easier time on board ship than while driving a tank.