I was about sixteen, at art school, a pipe was part of the image I suppose so I went out and bought one. Dad was surprisingly supportive, 50 Senior Service a day man, and he bought me an ounce of tobacco. I duly had a good puff, in fact several, was as sick as a dog, a dying dog even. I lay on the floor of the bog, retching my gut up, never again! Dad had wisely & craftily bought me roll-up tobacco, I was never to smoke again. Snogging a bird what smoked, urghh, further cause for not smoking!