Reflections on the imminent smoking ban in English pubs by a lifelong smoker, aged 84....

Yes, I remember Abdulla and Passing Cloud, boxes of 100 State Express. I remember Bulldog Drummond’s injunction with his cigarette case. “Turkish on the left. Virginia on the right.” I remember Noel Coward’s long holder, which seemed the height of depravity. I remember Paul Heinred’s double ignition manoeuvre in Now Voyager which reduced Bette Davis into a palpitating pulp.

I remember De Reske and Kensitas, with the obsequious butler. Black Cat, and some black coated with gold tip, carrying a hammer and sickle, called Tovarich, which managed to be smart and politically confusing.

And what about Woodbine Willy?. Did he know he was helping to finish off wounded soldiers by giving them the poisonous weed?

I remember smoking carriages on trains. I remember that you were never alone with a Strand. I remember the snobbery of Senior Service, the death wish of Capstan Full Strength. I remember smoking in the cinema. My Aunt Maude telling me that her idea of heaven was “a front seat at the Odeon and twenty Players in my bag.” I remember the cheapest fag of all, called Crayon, two for a penny, that left you wretched and wretching. I remember Ardath for their coupons, and gifts (smoking yourself to death for a silver fish slice), Craven A that were “kind to your throat.” and Three Castles, very posh...

What is going to happen to all this folk lore now?

I remember the currency of Camels and Lucky Strike, the allure of Du Maurier, the Canadian Sweet Caporal, the French Gitanes and Disque Bleu, the oval shaped Turkish.

Me? I’ve always smoked a pipe. I’ve been warned by my local to leave it at home. On the last day before the ban I’m going to have a smokethon.

Allen Saddler