SPLENDID SOLITUDE

They advertised that it had been 'cask-mellowed' for four years. Which improved it, made it softer, richer, and more luxurious. Since the original manufacturer (Lorrilard) stopped making it, two other companies (one now defunct) duplicated it, the last being Sutliff.

Normally I eschew Sutliff. Some of their stuff is truly appalling.

But the other day Neil brought their match of Briggs Mixture around, and, after drying it a little bit, I enjoyed a bowl.

Burley (heat-treated), Virginias, Kentucky. Subtle top dressing.
Sort of a chunky cut, slow burning, and relatively clean.

The forties were indeed a different era. An degenerate affection for overly sweetened goopy aromatics -- a phenomenon that eventually reached it's horrible apogee by the eighties and has still not abated -- had not yet taken hold of America's manhood, and pipe tobaccos were still mostly honest attempts to bring a simple pleasure to the country's living rooms.

I could mention something about how most pipesmokers nowadays spend a lot of time in the garage or the potting shed at the end of the yard, or, lord help us, underneath awnings in Chinatown during the rainy season; banished thither by modern sensibilities and the odium towards tobacco with which society has infected our nearest and dearest. But I shan't. My house mate half the time does not even notice when I am in another room happily puffing away, and I always let the place air out when she is gone.
I also make sure the door to her room is firmly shut on my off-days.
And that both the kitchen and bathroom windows are open.
Simmering ginger-tea for a few hours helps.
The place smells clean afterwards.


Well, the fact that I only smoke indoors before lunch has a lot to do with that too, as well as her less than perfect sense of smell.


That is what I would like to do on my first day off this week, tomorrow, except that I have to be out of the house early for tests down at Chinese Hospital, which means no coffee, no tea, no smoking, and no eating, after early afternoon today. One of the tests is a "nuclear stress test", during which they'll drip a radioactive solution into my veins so that the picture of my circulation is clearer (gamma camera scans), as well as a chemical stimulant (dipyridamole, denosine, etcetera) to measure how my system deals with stress.

The fact that I'll be uncaffeinated, on low blood sugar, grouchy as all git-out, and dying for a good smoke, will both add to the stress level and the excitement. An adventure, by gum!


There will be a pipe in my pocket, as well as a modicum of the Briggs Mixture reproduction by Sutliff. It has a sort of bready earthy taste, is not particularly strong in either the nicotine or flavour department, and there's that old-fashioned fragrance that one remembers adults in one's childhood having. Slightly sweet, slightly herbal. A vegetal pungency. I thoroughly enjoyed smoking it yesterday, and cadged some from Neil for half a dozen more bowls. Decent stuff. Not knock your socks off exciting, but on the whole damn' decent. I am looking forward to that.
It's an evocative air.


The moment they let me step outside for a restorative meal and a hot beverage, I am lighting up.



Yes, I know smoking is bad for my health.

TOBACCO INDEX


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