Remembering Clive
If you dropped by Noon’s cellar door at McLaren Vale in the 1980s, chances are you’d be greeted by a tall man wearing a leather cap. He’d remember your name and what you bought, even if you’d only been there once, years before. ‘Did you find that shiraz as good as I thought you would?’, he’d ask with a smile.
That man was Clive Simmonds an artist, teacher and cellar door
