THE MIND BEFORE BATHING

While looking at a collection of meerschaum pipes, some with a nice age evident from their colour, it struck me that technical expertise -- the fine detail and correct proportioning -- and aesthetics frequently part company. Perfectly carved, yes, but damned ugly too.
Good taste needs an educated eye.

[Meerschaum is an extremely lightweight porous silicate of magnesium mined largely in Central Anatolia, formerly mostly carved in places like Vienna, Prague, and Budapest, as well as worshops in Germany, Paris, and London. Now only exported as carved pieces from Turkey. It took nearly two or three generations before the Turks actually had adequate proficiency, and most of them look like crap. Though perfect.]

There are few meerschaum pipe in my collection. Two plain Africans by Peterson, one simple carved item, non-figurative. I rarely smoke them. Modern tobacco blends (meaning anything in production since slightly over a century ago) are based on the chemistry of the interaction of burning tobacco with the chamber of a briar; effects of carbon layers, charred wood, and extremely low resin content of the dried burl. Good old briar lends a faint hint of sweetness and a slight savoury quality, accentuating certain key characteristics in the tobacco.

Meerschaum is too neutral, and many other woods too strong tasting.

Frankly speaking, Meerschaum is boring.

Another significant issue with non-Peterson non-African meers is that they are fragile, and best smoked indoors and returned to a fitted case after finished, cleaned, and allowed to cool. Which, given that the person with whom I live is a non-smoker, presents a problem.

It's probably not a good idea to smoke my carved meerschaum in the bathroom.

But please feel free to imagine me doing so.


Meerschaum pipe, loaded with Rattrays Accountants Mixture, plus a pot of strong Assam tea and a cup and saucer on a tray. Ashtray, tamper, matches, and a small plate of biscuits.
Toes twiddling in warm soap water. Sunlight slanting in.

Much like my dad, except that I remember him with a pack of Camels on the tray, and the newspapers intead of a Russian novel.


If I did that in public I'd probably trigger someone.
Bah, kids these days.



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