I ferret my pipe and tabaccy from the bottom of my rucksack. I light it and puff merrily. “Bad for the health”, I tell the children somberly. They grin and sniff the sweet smoke. “A mobile hearth”, I add sagely. “Very useful in emergency situations.” They know smoking’s a dirty habit—substance abuse—they’ve heard all about it at school. But they can’t help liking the smell, and they lean back on their sleeping bags just watching me, smiling. Strange children! What a terrible example to set for them. I feel a trickle of guilt go down my throat, along with the soothing effect of nicotine. I’m a
...more
