K
klause
Guest
I glanced at this pipe on FleaBay and passed on by. But, as the evening drew on it kept surfacing in my mind, pushing my other thoughts to one side. However, being stoic, but mainly broke, I continued to ignore it, telling myself it wasn't sleek, elegant, graceful, and absolutely beautiful.
No! It did not remind me of boat tailed cars of a past era; aeroplanes designed to appeal to the eye as much as for their utility; to early, heady, optimistic, opulent days of adventure, invention, and hedonism.
No! I could not see this pipe being smoked by a dapper gent as he watched a Zeppelin, or R101, slowly, gently, glide to dock. The powerful engine and exhaust of his car, pinging and clinking as it cooled in the afternoon air after a blast along near empty roads from 'Town' to the airfield.
No! This pipe did not make me think of long warm evenings in the company of beautiful ladies, on the lawn, croquet mallet in hand, and cool drink inviting indulgence.
No! Damnit! No! I did not see this pipe held in hand, as a smiling face stepped from a cab in Covent Garden - happy in the company in which he was attending the theatre. A pipe to prepare for an evenings pleasure. A pipe to aid in the contemplation of an evening well spent, and, perhaps, of many more to come.
The next day these visions solidified in, and distracted, my thoughts.
I drove home. I walked the dogs. I cooked dinner. I sat down. I put a bid on it. Then I put another on. I walked away. Satisfied. About 15 minutes later I'd put another maximum bid on it - a big'un. I walked away. Satisfied.
To my horror someone else wanted it and the bids started to build, until finally, all parties exhausted, the auction ended. I paid the £13.03 for the pipe, smiled broadly, and maybe, just maybe, I did a little jig of joy.
When it arrived at my door, it did so in spotless condition, and ready to smoke. It was/is far more beautiful than I imagined, than the pictures would lead you to believe. I sat, I held it, I looked at it. I put it on the shelf, until the right moment to smoke.
That was October, 2014.
So, last week, January 2015, I smoked it, in the greenhouse with some hot black tea. The Toby of choice was Warrior. And, if I am being completely honest, Warrior never tasted so good, or burned so well; it was sweet, in a way I have never experienced before - it tingled my tongue. The pipe was/is staying!
While I smoked I was drawn, again, to contemplate who made this pipe. After all my searching I'd found nothing about CJC. The band has 3 gothic letters, the middle one of which is 'R', the others I can't make out. There is also a faint "ER" over other initials, the second of which is a "W" or a "V".
Now, here's the pipe:
So, after all that, does anyone know anything about CJC pipes? Any info would be greatly appreciated.
No! It did not remind me of boat tailed cars of a past era; aeroplanes designed to appeal to the eye as much as for their utility; to early, heady, optimistic, opulent days of adventure, invention, and hedonism.
No! I could not see this pipe being smoked by a dapper gent as he watched a Zeppelin, or R101, slowly, gently, glide to dock. The powerful engine and exhaust of his car, pinging and clinking as it cooled in the afternoon air after a blast along near empty roads from 'Town' to the airfield.
No! This pipe did not make me think of long warm evenings in the company of beautiful ladies, on the lawn, croquet mallet in hand, and cool drink inviting indulgence.
No! Damnit! No! I did not see this pipe held in hand, as a smiling face stepped from a cab in Covent Garden - happy in the company in which he was attending the theatre. A pipe to prepare for an evenings pleasure. A pipe to aid in the contemplation of an evening well spent, and, perhaps, of many more to come.
The next day these visions solidified in, and distracted, my thoughts.
I drove home. I walked the dogs. I cooked dinner. I sat down. I put a bid on it. Then I put another on. I walked away. Satisfied. About 15 minutes later I'd put another maximum bid on it - a big'un. I walked away. Satisfied.
To my horror someone else wanted it and the bids started to build, until finally, all parties exhausted, the auction ended. I paid the £13.03 for the pipe, smiled broadly, and maybe, just maybe, I did a little jig of joy.
When it arrived at my door, it did so in spotless condition, and ready to smoke. It was/is far more beautiful than I imagined, than the pictures would lead you to believe. I sat, I held it, I looked at it. I put it on the shelf, until the right moment to smoke.
That was October, 2014.
So, last week, January 2015, I smoked it, in the greenhouse with some hot black tea. The Toby of choice was Warrior. And, if I am being completely honest, Warrior never tasted so good, or burned so well; it was sweet, in a way I have never experienced before - it tingled my tongue. The pipe was/is staying!
While I smoked I was drawn, again, to contemplate who made this pipe. After all my searching I'd found nothing about CJC. The band has 3 gothic letters, the middle one of which is 'R', the others I can't make out. There is also a faint "ER" over other initials, the second of which is a "W" or a "V".
Now, here's the pipe:
So, after all that, does anyone know anything about CJC pipes? Any info would be greatly appreciated.
