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'''THE PIPE DREAM THAT ENDED A NIGHTMARE''' | '''THE PIPE DREAM THAT ENDED A NIGHTMARE''' | ||
[[Image:Ronny | [[Image:Ronny Thuner.jpg|right]] | ||
Sometimes in Sweden’s long summer evenings, I lay aside the tools of my trade and gaze over the placid lake and the trees beyond. I listen to a rhapsody of silence. Then, slowly, I light my pipe. | Sometimes in Sweden’s long summer evenings, I lay aside the tools of my trade and gaze over the placid lake and the trees beyond. I listen to a rhapsody of silence. Then, slowly, I light my pipe. | ||
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For many years, I’d been a pipe-smoker and had one battered old briar that had been my only friend during my time on the run. One day, the stem broke. I forced the plastic casing from a cheap ballpoint pen into the shank by way of repair. It didn’t work. | For many years, I’d been a pipe-smoker and had one battered old briar that had been my only friend during my time on the run. One day, the stem broke. I forced the plastic casing from a cheap ballpoint pen into the shank by way of repair. It didn’t work. | ||
[[Image:Ronny Thunér.jpg|left|thumb]] | |||
Contrary to foreign fanciful thinking, pipe-smoking isn’t big in Sweden. All I could lay hands on to replace my poor pipe was a tacky basket case that had been gathering dust in a local tobacconist’s shop. It was truly disgusting. | Contrary to foreign fanciful thinking, pipe-smoking isn’t big in Sweden. All I could lay hands on to replace my poor pipe was a tacky basket case that had been gathering dust in a local tobacconist’s shop. It was truly disgusting. | ||