At
some point during my self-imposed hermithood, in the past year and a
half or so, public opinion regarding smokers has plummeted down the
proverbial scale-of-barely-concealed-horror to somewhere juuuust
above the disgust you'd feel if someone nearby soiled themselves.
On
a warm day.
I’m
extrapolating on the plethora of offended and scandalised expressions
shot me as I waited for friends outside a Central London Tube station
and dared to light up.
It's
possible I’m exaggerating. Somewhat.
But,
and I shit you not, last night I exhaled a lungful, considerately aimed up above
the head of passers by, and a middle aged couple shot me a look that
suggested I'd torn the head off a motherfucking baby,
right in front of them. So intense that god, I was actually
surprised! I mean, we were outside! A public street. An albeit
crowded, fairly touristy street, but a street nonetheless. Fresh air, great ventilation, and all that hooey.
Is
this how it is now? London used to be full of fucking smokers! Existing relatively peacefully alongside non-smokers, unmolested. Even
after the indoor smoking ban (a sad day, let me tell you) we
persevered; banished to the doorsteps of pubs, bars and restaurants
city-wide but banding together in a sense of camaraderie. A necessary
evil to keep the insides of these establishments smoke-free for their patrons, and we accepted it (somewhat) gracefully. But now? Are we to
be pushed off the streets themselves too?
Jesus.
