A Pipe, Hence to Dream...
Introspection and reflection - as opposed to nostalgia and regret - are a natural concomitant of the ageing process. The former pairing serve to accentuate the present and inform the possibilities of the future [however long or short], whilst the latter pairing inform nothing, ignoring the present and denying the future in the service of the past. Not in my book a healthy mindset. An appreciation of as opposed to a longing for one's past, is however to reinforce one's connection with the world that is the present, and which presents the potential of the future.
I gave up cigarettes some twenty-odd years ago, having decided that I no longer enjoyed smoking the damned things, and that the habit was just that: a habit. It was potentially doing me harm, and worst of all, gave me no pleasure whatsoever, at great monetary expense to boot. A few years ago, I said that if I made it to seventy years old I might consider taking up smoking the occasional pipe of tobacco: I had smoked a pipe throughout my days as an art student in the seventies, and had always enjoyed the ritual of pipe smoking and the taste of good tobacco: all in all a good contemplative activity in itself that drove many a good seminar discussion at college.
Anyhow, I decided recently to take myself up on that notion and bought myself a cheap churchwarden pipe and some good tobacco, inspired by a couple of Americans who came to stay with us who both partook of an evening pipe, sat on the bench in the side garden at sunset. So, I've been taking a bowl of tobacco each evening since then before retiring to bed; just chewing over the day and life in general, and savouring the dusk and starlight in the process: very pleasant indeed. Thankfully my mild OCD allows me to compartmentalise and control this ritual, although if I make it to my eightieth birthday, I might go full-on Jack Hargreaves and smoke the bugger all day. Pictured is my latest purchase; a Peterson pipe of somewhat better quality than the cheap churchwarden of late. I lost the splendid Peterson that my sister bought me for my birthday back in the day, and so I thought it fitting to return to the eminent Dublin manufacturer once again for a replacement...

NOT in the Bull you won't mate! You'll have to join me on the "Sun Deck" or "Smokatorium" take your pick!
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Joe
One smoke before bed is my limit!
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