I was late going in to town last Friday, got to the bus stop in the middle of the village about 2pm.
There is one advantage to that – the buses are quiet, not even very many gallivanting pensioners.
There was one young man already waiting; I would have said twenty-something but am learning, in the interests of accurate reporting, to add 10 to any such estimate I make these days.
He lit a roll up cigarette. And I was transfixed. The name Sail had just popped into my head.
The name of one very particular blend of tobacco. It was the smell that did it. A smell which holds a very special place in my heart.
Funnily enough it has been years since I could remember the brand name, & I have tried. Even tried in my early Googling to find it via their slogan: Sweeter Than A Nut. No luck. I can remember exactly what the pack looked like, & have most certainly never seen it on sale in this country, not even in specialist shops.
In the now increasingly common senior moments a name usually comes back, after a while, to a feeling of annoyance – why would it not come before? On those occasions there is no doubt that I know that that is indeed the name I was searching for. The funny thing this time is that, although it felt like a confident memory, I did not think that the name actually rang a bell, was not sure of it at all.
This time Google did come to my rescue – I was even able to find a picture.
But it answers only to its own name – Sweeter Than A Nut still does not do it.
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