Cigarettes

One of Sara’s friends came to visit one day last week; it was a nice day so we sat in the garden. Sara’s friend smoked a small number of cigarettes. I was pleasantly reminded of just how nice it can be to have a background low level aroma of cigarette smoke – far better than ylang ylang.

The smoke brings back many happy memories for me. When I was a lad we would often visit family groups in West Brom, Hill Top, Coseley, Tipton and Smethwick – even Dawley sometimes. At most of those family homes a small number of people (usually the father) would smoke a small number of cigarettes. The smell of the smoke brings back many happy memories of talking, listening to gossip and always lots of laughter and good humour. Most of my family smoked Woodbines and bought them in those little packs of 5. My Great Aunt Annie in Great Bridge only smoked when she had visitors. I am sure she did this in memory of late Uncle Joe. She would smoke ‘Passing Cloud’ a strange cigarette of elliptical cross section sold in flat metal tins. Great Uncle Joe had been a sergeant in the South Staffs in the 1914-18 war. He had served at the Somme where he won a Military Medal but lost a kidney rescuing wounded comrades from no-man’s land between the lines. I cannot remember much except that he was often ill when we visited. He would always get up from bed to see us; I was always puzzled by the way he appeared from a cupboard in the sitting room. I now know that putting the stairs in a cupboard was a feature of some old houses. He was a very pleasant man, always cheerful and full of stories. He would smoke one pipe of tobacco. He died some years later when his remaining kidney collapsed.
The smoke also brings back happy memories of time with friends in public houses. I may have been lucky to have groups of friends where a small number would smoke in moderation. I can remember laughing long and loud but cannot remember coughing or any of the symptoms so beloved of the Smoke police. Same is true of playing Bridge in someone’s kitchen.

I also have many fond memories of sitting in staff rooms where a small number of teachers would smoke in moderation. Lots of chatting, lots of philosophising, lots of mocking senior colleagues, lots of laughter. Perhaps I was lucky to avoid the smoke filled staffrooms one hears about but I was fortunate to work in places with modern devices like windows or even extractor fans.

I detest the modern tendency to demonise smokers. I do not deny that smoking can damage the health of the smoker but I hate the myth of passive smoking. I had a grandfather and two uncles who died of lung disease and they all smoked for many years. They also all worked in heavy industry for those years, two of them worked with asbestos (Handsworth Carriage Works) and the other had the delightful job of cleaning components by dipping them in an acid bath.

Another example: When I arrived at Dudley College each morning I would walk across the car park and meet some dear friends standing outside the entrance where they had been exiled by the Smoke police to have a cigarette. I would exchange pleasantries with these friends. Is anyone seriously suggesting that I risked my health through passive smoking when I said hello and chatted for a few moments? On the other hand I am sure that my mood and day were improved by this pleasant start.

Some of my favourite people smoke. Some of my favourite people do not smoke. My life would have been impoverished if I had denied myself the opportunity to enjoy the company of any of these people.

One of the things I really dislike is held in the famous old quotation:


“They use Statistics as a drunken man uses a lamp post – for support rather than illumination.”

I now spend a lot of time watching TV and have come to dislike the patronising, opinionated, glossy presentators who inhabit breakfast television.

Last week a Maths professor was trying to explain that Statistics should be used carefully and if you quote statistics you should think about how those stats were collected and what definitions of terms were being used. The presenters were horrified at the thought of how much thinking they would have to do and said it was ‘impossible’ to have so many thoughts as they did not have time and their brains would not cope. I restrict myself to shouting abuse at the screen but have to be sure that I do not have any heavy objects to hand.

One final point. Greta Aunt Annie and Greta Uncle Joe had one son, Ken, who had the best job in the world. He was chief electrician at Firkin’s PorkPie Factory – if only I had had such a job!

When I ran the annual Maths quiz at Rowley I tried to get us sponsored by Firkin’s. No luck but I did get £1000 from a calculator import company in Aston. Sadly the Maths quiz was one of the bits of Rowley that were unwanted when we were taken over. Tired now but might do a post on the quiz one day – another opportunity to ridicule the media.