During my smoking years [mostly, of other people’s ciggies]
between the ages of 13 and 22, the urge to look cool triumphed over any qualms
that I might have had about my health.
This old enamel sign is on Loughborough Central station. No
clues to any inherent dangers, there. Ian and I came back from our early trips
to France wielding multi-packs of duty-free, Royale king-size. They were mild
and aromatic and I probably thought that they were a little less harmful than Embassy
or Players No. 6, if I thought about it at all.
[Grah' and Ian enjoying a somewhat hazy café culture in the Lake District in October 1966, with thanks to Ian Hughes for providing the photo]
Getting the wording right can be quite critical. Our local
church sent me an email yesterday announcing news of their mission statement. I
was not at all surprised that they had one, but it did leave me wondering why
it had taken them over two thousand years to get the wording right.
If I’d taken any notice of the Craven’s ad’ and carried on
smoking, I can confidently say that this railway heritage blog would never have
existed. Then where would we have been - in addition to being relatively blogless?
No comments:
Post a Comment