olden days n' olden ways

Erinmore Mixture. It brings back memories of childhood in my father's pub in Dublin.

I always loved to open the plastic jar of plugs that sat on the shelf, whenever somebody would request it, I would blurt, dashing, "I'll get it". I loved the sweet aroma released from its chamber as soon as you twisted the red lid off, fruit cake and black tea. I would ritually stick my nose in the jar and catch the smell, lingering. The umber black sticky blocks smelling so edible. In a place that reeked human odors of the most unpleasant sort, it was from Shangri la.

They were 5 pence back in those days (about 35 years ago). I would gawk at the old men cutting it, waiting for it to dry, the smell growing stronger as they carried out this startling procedure, and then try to steal a whiff as they lit-up. Their patients during the whole task always amazed me, even at 6 or 7 years old I could see how pipe smokers where 'different', more relaxed and worldly. It's only now that I remember its full name, 'Erinmore Plug'. Let the connoisseurs think they know what they're talking about on www.tobaccoreviews.com, but really, the half of em' haven't got a clue!

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