Tuesday December 9th 2014
The problem is I
need a pair of boots. The old faith-full ones have given
up on me. They did sterling service and will be hung in
a place of great honor. Maybe painted black and white,
or used as hanging baskets if the Spring ever arrives.
But to enter the kingdom of New-Boot-Dom, I had to go
into town. Ten minutes later I was stricken by a palsy
that's little understood by the medical profession. It's
quite obvious to me however that for us apprentices to
the ranks of the Non-Smoker there is what I will call
the Allergic Reaction to members of the Radical Wing of
the Non-Smoking Community. Naturally there have been a
number of ridiculously far fetched theories tossed
around regarding the cause of my Allergic Reaction.
Laundry Detergent, Buckwheat Groats, Hibernating Lady
Birds. But the more astute thinker knows better.
feeling shaky as soon as I saw the signature of the Radical
Wing. It's their Smoke Free Zone sign. My reaction to it
could be translated from the Sabean language as, these
fine fellows have got a hot nerve. This must have
produced some sort of psychotic reaction in me that some
people call Hives, others call Bring on the End Times, but
which is better understood as Entire Body Red Blotchy
Itchiness. And yes there was some direct action which
required a visit to the Tobacco Hut in order to hunt down a
better cure than Benadryl. But to be on the safe side of
course, I'll not be washing my clothes for a couple of
months, I'll stop cooing at hibernating Lady Birds and I'm
going to start calling Buck Wheat Groats, Highwayman
Porridge. But one thing I know for certain I'm done with
Smoke Free Zones until I have to renew my driving license.