Tuesday, December 11, 2018


Yesterday afternoon at the meeting of the pipe smokers, Bernhard extended a container with some tobacco from South Afrika. So I filled a bowl for later, intending to enjoy it as the last pipe of the day. But I napped instead. And lit it up as the first pipe this morning at work. Jock's Mixture, by Van Erkom.

The few reviews of it I can find state that it is a medium-bodied Virginia with the addition of caramel and vanilla. Now, being around tobacco and cigar smoke all day, my sense of smell is buggered-up by noon, almost out the door by teatime. So although it smelled pleasant enough, I did not notice such a topping. Instead it came across as grassy and slightly herbal.

Nor did I notice it when lighting up while working.
It is also described as "unpleasant room note".
Yeah, um, no. Hardly unpleasant at all.

Perhaps not enjoyable to a dried-up stick insect like Kate Sears, one of the five Marin County Supervisors, who spearheaded the recent anti-tobacco crusade here which resulted in a complete ban on all flavoured tobacco products locally, ably assisted by the usual villains and puritanical anti-everything folks. She'd probably scream that I was killing babies by lighting it up. And have several other incoherent and irrelevant things to say.

As we say in Dutch: Zy kan de kolere krygen -- she can (and should) get cholera. Venynige klotewyf, een echt stuk werk. Verrek maar es, kreng.

It's good stuff. Hardly likely to tempt children. Especially not the pot smoking Ritalin-addled vaping kiddiliewinkies of Marin County.

Here's a video review of it by someone else.


[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jfFN2-nB1G0.]

His thoughts on this tobacco are a bit wordier than mine. It's a nice smoke. Seems to be a Virginia (meaning 'flue-cured tobacco') product, with some complexity, unsuited to halfwits. It smoked easily and enjoyably all the way down, and gilded the first part of the day. I would definitely puff it again.

Note: our stoep at work is often occupied by crotchetty old geezers. This morning a self-important person of the other gender parked herself there, and had to be "persuaded" that she should go somewhere else.
Which the bossfella did, eventually and reluctantly.
More gently than I could do.

My approach would've been "oh piss off, ye crazy old bat, nobody cares that ye've bin to Baghdad! G'wan, scoot!"

Apparently she's on a no fly list. I am not surprised.


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