My walk to the shop yesterday for a tin of cigarettes turned into quite a dispiriting affair. Firstly, cigarettes don’t come in tins anymore. Secondly, all the brands I knew have disappeared, and finally they seem to all have the most grotesque pictures on them. The one I eventually bought had a picture of some rotting toes on it. What on earth are the cigarette companies playing at? Have they gone insane? Here’s how they advertised cigarettes in my day.
The other reason the trip to the shops put me out of sorts was the infernal motor car which appears now to be everywhere and travel at lethal speeds. I can assure you that this was not always the case.
I only had one quiet lane to cross on my way to the shop but I felt I was taking my life in my hands. It seems that in the battle between man and machine these infernal machines have been allowed to win, and even in a simple trip to the shops the humble gentleman on foot must be on his guard every time he steps off the curb. I suppose that even in 1912 the warning signs were there of the impending madness of motor-cars.
I think we can all pine for the days when the desire for a plain tooter was all that we had to be concerned about as we crossed the road.