What with still being a bit hacky.
Item A): The pipe for watching rats in Spofford Alley.
A smallish billiard made by Comoy under an off-label (shape 110B). Performs very well with aged Virginias. Fits nicely in the hand.
Item B): The Parker Billiard.
Lovely in the fingers, purchased from Marty Pulvers many years ago. Smooth, some surface wear, a touchie-feelie item.
Item C): Dudleigh Hollywood blasted straight panel.
Something I finally restored a few months ago. With the new stem it's a total looker, elegant and Simenonesque.
A textural affair.
If your eyes are glazing over now, that's quite okay. Pretty much most folks really aren't into briar, and tobacco smoking is so last century crusty old fart.
My doctor would severely disapprove also anyway, my apartment mate can't stand smoking, and almost everyone nowadays draws away from smokers as if they have the plague and a total body fungal infection in any case.
One gets used to being a sand creature.
The key concept in play is that good stuff does not have flavourings added. Good coffee does not have sea salt caramel or vanilla cinnamon extract, good tea isn't jacked up with orange peel or hibiscus, good tobacco will not be augmented with brown sugar and cherries.
The day that wine coolers were invented is when civilization threw up a little bit in her mouth.
If your granddad smelled of Dutch Cavendish or other fruity tobaccos, maybe he was a right ruddy pervert?
Permissible exceptions being, possibly, aromas inherited from either the snuff trade or Edwardian hair oils.
Pipe smoking: it's what dead people in books do.
TOBACCO INDEX
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