When I was a small child, visiting my Grandad & Granny Sweeten, I would sit on the grey bench next to my Grandad while he smoked his pipe. There is an indentation on the arm of that bench, where he would bang out the ashes (I guess they were ashes, yes?) of his pipe. I could have sworn, the last time I bent down to smell it ~ LONG after his death (1964) ~ I could still smell that sweet tobacco. I nearly cried.
I have begged my uncle repeatedly for that bench and he has always said no. I'm at the point now where I might just go and 'borrow' it. <giggle> Guess where he'd come lookin' for it first? To my back terrace, that's where!
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