I remember the tobacconists, we had several in our town. When I was working on a geriatric ward I often used to pop into one of the shops to buy clay pipes for a patient. The pipe was white when I bought it.
The tobacconists I remember well was in the forecourt of the railway station and in the 50s you had the added smell of the steam trains.
Have you stopped buying papers?
Your own body reminding you of lost loved ones
Soops kitchen, a place of reflection, refuge and at times revelry.


