Monday, October 14, 2019


Yesterday, in addition to being my birthday, was also the day of the monthly meeting of the pipe club. Which involved salume, chewy French bread, some kind of brie-like cheese, olives, and smoked salmon. When I joined the boys, I brought my bottle of hot sauce, but did not use it.

Several different tobaccos were smoked; each of us can honestly say we tried two things new to us. A jolly good time was had. Mention was made of Deng Xiao Ping, standard shipping containers used in international cargo, as well as pumps and a kind of motor. When I returned to the table after a brief errand, bananas and the port facilities in Panama were being discussed.

[Photo: SCMP, 1984 file photo]

The tobaccos I smoked yesterday were my own aged Virginia blend, Bothy Flake (Samuel Gawith), and SHPC - VR Blend ( . That last is a Virginia and Perique crumble cake with plain cavendish which smells like an orgasm in a can. No longer made. It's rather nice.
Plus something Sutliff. Lamentable.

Not enough members in attendance for a minyan, unfortunately, so the cigar smokers watching football in the backroom outnumbered us by a fair margin, and definitely out-shouted us. But we were calmer.
And had whisky.

So just how old did that birthday yesterday make me?

Well, I'll tell the honest to goodness bald-faced lie.
I'm a young and sprightly fifty years now.

Yeah, not true at all. But I'm comfortable with that.

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