On the way to the station this morning, I saw a man smoking a pipe. Which you don’t see much these days. Well, except for the elderly man I saw the day before yesterday, going to the corner shop. They have one of those freestanding double-sided blackboard thingies outside, and he lovingly rested his pipe on top of it before going into the shop. But the man I saw this morning was younger, probably in his 30’s. Unusual. B and his mates will smoke cigars on special occasions (even though 8/10 of them don’t smoke normally), but pipes take a bit more work, so maybe that’s why you don’t see them so often.
My Dad actually used to smoke a pipe, and the occasional cigar. To my knowledge, he didn’t smoke cigarettes, but he might have done when he was younger. My Mum enlisted me and Martin in a sneaky campaign to make him stop when we were little, by getting us to loudly declare “Pooooo!!!” and all leave the room whenever he lit up. I’m not sure if that’s why, but he did stop. I never really minded cigar and pipe smoke that much, though. It’s way more fragrant than cigarette smoke. And there’s a whole process to packing a pipe. Pipecleaners are also brimming with bendy fun. But of course, when Dad smoked his pipes and cigars when we were little, he was in his late-40’s / early-50’s. I wonder when he picked the habit up, though. Maybe it was when he lived with his cousin Will (really his Mum’s cousin, I think… he had a good 30 or 40 years on Dad). Will loved smoking and drinking and gambling, though he gave it all up for health reasons when he was 96. I have this mental image of them now, both with pipes in mouth, and a glass of brandy at their elbows, gambling the night away – using Italian Lira because it cracked Will up that he could bet thousands without spending any real money. Heheheh.
Oh, and I tried to give blood on Thursday. But they wouldn’t let me – I’m allergic to the frickin’ antiseptic wipes. *sigh* I wouldn’t have said anything, but I thought they had an alternative… they used to, I’m sure. Gah.
