THE GLOOMITY

Those few people on the street unfurled their umbrellas, then a minute or two later furled them up again. It wasn't actually raining, not even a full sprinkle. Droplets, sporadic, wind born. Suggesting that it might come down a bit less apathetically later. And holding an umbrella over one's head is tiresome and old school, surely there's an app for that?

My last dream had, oddly, had involved Orlik's Golden Slices, of which I have several tins purchased six or seven years ago. Which I shan't open, because there are too many open tins of tobacco already. I still haven't even made a dent in the Royal Yacht I cracked at the beginning of October.

It's like having too many teas. Choice is good, too much choice is irritating.

Pipestud (Steve Fallon) in Texas would've probably sucked up that Royal Yacht in less than a week. Which I admire, but shall not emulate. I still remember hiccoughing for an hour after two bowls of that stuff with a cigar in between.

And speaking of Steve, I should mention that four of his five favourite pipe tobaccos are not produced anymore. Once you reach a certain age (let us say early adulthood), things which were a bedrock start disappearing. I can imagine it's the same for smart young hipsters who suddenly discover that "Uncle Bing's Black Cherry Extra Vaganza", once made by Parsnip and Co. in East Bongo, Kentucky, a stalwart enterprise and pillar of the community, is no longer shipped to the civilized world. Why, even "Smither's Candy Floss Flake" is hard to find! What IS this world coming to? What indeed?

Having gotten up early so that I could get in my first pipe outside early, thus maintaining the pretense that I don't light up in the apartment for at least as long as it takes my apartment mate to have breakfast, a bath, a cuppa, and depart for work, I naturally had a furled umbrella with me when I left the front steps after lighting up.

I suspect it's going to be right nasty when I head out to lunch. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night shall keep me from my Tuesday and Wednesday routine. Chachanteng, strong milk tea, something tasty to eat, followed by a bowl.

I'm luckier than Steve Fallon. Several of my faves are still available (although I do have a substantial number of tobaccos that are no longer being made on the shelf), and quite fortunately I don't live in a state with Ted Cruz.




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