ANCIENT WOODS

The pipe which I smoked after lunch was a Kriswil, so it's at least half a century old, and may even have been made several years before I bought my first pipe. Found it a rummage box, cleaned it up and restored it, had a new mouthpiece made. Smokes fine.
It's a rather jaunty little number. Much like its present owner.
That would be me. In case you were wondering.


The place where I lunched today speaks Mandarin (and English too). Plus they understand me when I speak Mandarin, so they're talented and multilingual. Sadly, they have that fried chili in oil stuff in lieu of actual hot sauce. Evenso, excellent.

Real hot sauce, basically mooshed red chilies, adds both pizzazz and vitamin 'C' to the food, plus fibre and flavour. And it keeps evil spirits away. An essential characteristic now that food industry self-policing gives everyone the runs. Or far worse.

Fortunately, because we don't live in a Red State, we don't have to worry about that so much. Everyone with a brain agrees; blue is better for you.

By the way, there is no prepackaged frozen Midwest Hot Dish in the supermarket.
Why is that? Discrimination?

Actually, yes. That's probably precisely why.

Unfortunately I only have three Kriswil pipes, of one of which I'm very fond indeed, it being a very tasteful sandblasted Lovatt, precisely the kind of pipe I would have been keen to have years ago. It has a certain look. A look that speaks of cold winters, bookstores and cafés, dinners grabbed at an Indonesian restaurant, or a friet kot, long evenings, the smells of tar, machine oil, sawdust, tannins and dead leaves, strong coffee, and general dampness.


I am sure that some of the tobacconists in Valkenswaard and Eindhoven must have sold Kriswils, but I wasn't aware of the brand back then and couldn't afford good pipes in any case. I was not even fully acquainted with decent tobacco.

So my three Kriswil pipes speak to me of a youth I did not have.
But rather wish that I had had.



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