It's this kind of thing that gives smoking a good name. I was waiting outside a bakery in St Étienne (Shelley and Anne were inside, working their French to buy us some delicious treats) when an old man toddled up to the door smoking his pipe.
I could feel his pain. It went something like this:
2 comments:
I hope you told him it was no good buying anything in the shop. He wouldn't be able to taste anything anyway!
(This was a completely unbiased view from a person who has a completely open mind about the benefits of smoking.)
This is very, very perfect.
I hate smoking, but I do love sitting near an old man smoking a pipe. Go figure....
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