North-Easterlies & Night-Times: Tobacco Reflections on a Scarborough Breeze
North-Easterlies & Night-Times: Tobacco Reflections on a Scarborough Breeze It was one of those Scarborough mornings where the sun shone sharp as a sailor’s knife, but the wind came biting up from the North Sea — that sly old North Easterly that whistles past your ears no matter how snug the collar. I took Bertie down to the beach, and he, of course, went tearing after the foam like a creature without a care in the world. I, on the other hand, had packed for the weather: thick wool, hip flask, and a well-chosen flake. But what I didn’t expect was the companion that’s been stealing my afternoon thoughts all week — a rather dark and mysterious tin that smells faintly of port, old wood, and far-off adventure. A blend called Black Frigate , if you can believe it. Rum-soaked, pressed with Latakia and Perique, it tastes like something a pirate might have smoked while staring down a cannon broadside. That’s the joy of new arrivals. Not gadgets or gear — no, I mean blends. Leaf. Character....