It’s Halloween once again, when ghosties and ghoulies are supposed to walk abroad. The fog that had descended down upon London was made even worse by the whirling mist that drifted up from the Thames, and seemed to seep into every doorway and window.
I made my way to my local, an old inn, dating back to the sixteenth century, although now much updated, and standing almost on the banks of the Thames, right opposite the Houses of Parliament. Inside, a small coal fire burnt merrily in the grate, but apart from a small group of American tourists, and another couple sitting near the bar, the place is almost empty, with none of the usual MPs and their hangers on, which normally congregate in there.
Once inside, I sat at my usual seat near the bar. A sudden strong gust of wind blew the doors open, causing them to bang backwards and forwards, and making the fire spit and hiss in the grate. One of the American tourists, a large woman, dressed in a sort of cape and knitted hat, which made her look like a female Sherlock Holmes, rubbed her hands together, and moved closer to the fire to try to warm herself.
That’s strange, she thought, as she looked at the man now sitting in the armchair directly next to the fire, she was sure that he wasn’t there a minute ago. The woman smiled at him, and nodded a sort of hello, but the man didn’t respond at all, he just took another sip from the enormous glass of Brandy he was holding, and stared directly into the fire, as if deep in thought.
Oh well, she thought, just one of the local characters I suppose, he looks quite old, and also very sad, maybe he has recently lost his wife, or maybe he is ill, maybe she should try again. ‘Cold tonight isn’t it’ she exclaims with yet another smile. The man looked up from the fire, and stared directly at her, but still didn’t answer her. His stare was a little unnerving, making her think that maybe she should move back to her own crowd, on the other side of the room.
At this point, the man reached into the top pocket of his jacket and took out a leather case, from which he produced a large cigar. The woman watched him in disbelief as he then took a silver cigar cutter from another pocket, and neatly sniped the end off the cigar. Surely he isn’t really going to light that thing, she thought to herself, he can’t do that, it’s against the law here in England now, just like back home.
‘Excuse me..er..you’re not going to...’ The man looked up at her, as if anticipating her next words, a defiant smile now on his face, as he licked the end of the cigar to moisten it slightly, and then stuck it into his mouth. Then, producing a large box of matches, he struck one and proceeded to light the cigar, sucking on it, and finally blowing cloud of smoke up into the air above his head.
His face was now beaming a radiant smile of satisfaction, another sip of his Brandy, and another puff of his cigar, a look which said, what more could a man want. This, of course, was just too much for our American friend, she had tried to befriend him, and he wouldn’t even answer her, then she had tried to warn him, but still he had taken no notice, now she would give him one last chance. ‘Look’, she exclaimed, ‘are you going to put that filthy thing out immediately, or do you want me to report you to the landlord, who will no doubt call the police and have you arrested?’
Another puff, another sip, and an even bigger smile said it all, there was no way that this man was going to be forced into doing something which he didn’t agree with.. ‘Right, you’ve been warned’ she said, as she strode over to the bar to register her complaint. I watched with interest, as she spoke to the barman, and waved her arms about, gesticulating over her shoulder towards the fireplace and the man with the cigar. She then pointed to a No Smoking sign which was attached to the wall directly behind the bar, her voice now getting louder and more angry, ‘Are you going to do something or not?’, she shouted.
The barman looked exasperated as he came from around the bar, took the woman by her arm, and gently guided her over to the fireplace. ‘Now’, he asked, ‘please tell me where this person is, that you say was smoking this huge cigar, because I certainly cannot see anyone?’
Both the barman and the woman stared at the now empty chair beside the fireplace, ‘but..he was there’ she exclaimed, pointing at the chair, ‘I can still smell the awful smell of his cigar, don’t tell me you can’t smell that?’. The barman shook his head and walked away, back to his bar, leaving the woman still staring in disbelief. Then she suddenly bent down and picked up the discarded matchstick, which the man had lit his cigar with. ‘Look’ she said, turning back towards the bar, ‘what’s this then, I saw him light his cigar with this?’.
By this time of course, no one would take any notice of her, just another cranky tourist. But I had to smile as I walked over to the man, who was still puffing away on his cigar, ‘You’ll have to be a bit more careful Winston’, I said, as I sat myself down in a chair next to him. ‘Carefull?’, he harrumphed, ‘why should I be careful? We didn’t beat the Nazis by being careful, and I don’t recall you exactly being careful Anthony, regarding Suez’. This last remark was said somewhat tongue in cheek, and with a slight smile on his face, which I suppose I had to accept.
Winston took another long draw on his cigar and looked at me, ‘Do you remember my speech Anthony, the one that uplifted the hearts of the people of this country, when they needed it most? Well I still stand by what I said then, a few slight alterations here and there, but the basics, against tyranny is still there......’
"Even though large tracts of Europe and many old and famous States have fallen or may fall into the grip of the No Smoking Gestapo and all the odious apparatus of Nazi rule, we shall not flag or fail.
We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in Europe, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our right to be free to smoke, if we so choose, whatever the cost may be,we shall fight in the pubs, we shall fight in the restaurants, we shall fight in the doorways, and in the streets, we shall fight in our cars; we shall never surrender....."
Winston and I had been meeting in that pub every week for the last 42 years, no one else in the pub could see us of course, except on very rare occasions, like Halloween, but as much as the world had changed in all those years, one thing never changed, and that was Winston’s determination and fighting spirit. Something that all believers in the freedom to choose, should stand up for today.
