Well, as some of you may know I am a reformed smoker, stopped some 20 years or so ago. [ I am reminded you never give up – you just stop]. You can imagine how pleased I was when furthur temptation was removed last year when Parliament banned smoking in all pubs and restaurants. It was nt until I had stopped that I realised how insiduously the foul smoke clung to clothing. Family and friends when visiting, never dream of lighting up in the house. So you can imagine my surprise a couple of weeks ago when I detected that sweet smell of pipe tobacco in this room, my control centre!
From the beginning of the month my family research had been concentrating on my maternal Grandfather, George Davenport. Attempting to discover the church where he had been baptised, where he had ‘disappeared’ to between the 1881 and 1901 censuses. Searching for army records, [ He was a reservist between 1914 – 1918 ].Two years ago I rediscovered and visited his grave in Southern Cemetery, Manchester. His death certificate notes that he died from throat cancer. On reading this I remember a family anecdote, that whilst in hospital and shortly before he died, he asked that my Grandmother fetch him his pipe on her next visit.
It occured to me that this was nt the first time in the last month that I had ‘smelt’ this odour. In fact both my Grandfather’s were pipe smokers. Am I being supervised?
Oh by the way – yesterday I found which Methodist Church in Mow Cop, Cheshire, George had been baptised in !