Je suis cigar smoker

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Created on Thursday, 22 January 2015 16:20

Written by James Leavey

 by James Leavey

The New Year started off well, until some humourless misguided religious fanatics tried to murder free speech. But one good thing came out of those grim events...they're uniting people of all faiths around the world. Talking of which,there are some anti-smoking zealots out there who'd prefer I didn't write positive blogs about smoking and cigars.

There are also non-smokers who love the smell of a fine Havana. Including a friend of mine who I recently gave a lift to and immediately noticed the smell of cigar smoke in my car. I offered to open the windows, but she actually encouraged me to light up. Mind you, this was in Cowes, not Dublin – where there are few places you can enjoy a lit cigar in public,indoors. Fortunately they haven't banned smokers from the city's streets. All you need is a fine day...OK, I'll settle for a dry one...and you can stroll around Ireland's capital with your favourite tube of hand-rolled, premium tobacco and learn something along the way. So fill your case with some nice cigars from The DCE and make sure you have a cutter and a wind-resistant lighter handy. If you're feeling benign, slip a pocket ashtray into your coat.

If you walk along Merrion Square do stop at No.1, for that was where that great Irish writer, Oscar Wilde, lived, wrote and smoked. Then head to the Abbey Theatre in Marlborough Street where, years ago, real cigars and cigarettes were once smoked on stage. Nowadays the actors are forced to ignite herbal alternatives. Or use a mock cigar from a joke shop as a prop.

A good place to exhale is in front of the plaque on the gate of Coombe Maternity Hospital, where two poor women and their newborn children died during a snowstorm while heading for the Rotunda Hospital in north Dublin. The hospital relocated to Cork Street in 1967. Behind its gate is a memorial of long-dead Dublin characters, including Johnny Wet Bread, Stab the Basher, Damn the Weather, and Nancy Needle Balls. Maybe one day there'll be a new list of names depicting Dublin's now rare public smokers, such as Jimmy Light Up, Harry Havana and Sean O'Cigar Casey.

Talking of hospitals, where many people end up whether they smoke or not, St Patrick's in Steeven's Lane is a psychiatric establishment founded by money from the will of another great Irish writer, Jonathan Swift. Swift even wrote a poem to explain why:

'He gave the little wealth he had

To build a house for fools and mad: 

And shew'd by one satiric touch,

No nation wanted it so much.'

Perhaps a similar ditty will one day be engraved over the doorway of The DCE where Guy Hancock built and nurtured a haven for cigar aficionados who were neither foolish or crackers. They just needed a haven run by friendly knowledgeable people where they feel welcome to enjoy their nicotine habit. Long may it reign. As for the anti-smoking terrorists, fuck 'em