Probably not Molly Lindley herself. From the Philosophy of Science Portal. (Click on the pic to get there.)
Light. Light! Light?
The word may prompt all sorts of noble concepts and ideals of faith and idealism in your mind.
As for me – it’s this song. All about…
Molly Lindley, she smokes like a chimney
But she’s my little nicotine gal
It’s Allan Smethurst aka The Singing Postman – postman and singer from Norfolk. More information and song lyrics here.
My friend Sara used to sing it – not that I’m suggesting she smoked like a chimney herself.
You can see what the other members of the Loose Bloggers Consortium have to say for themselves on the topic of light by scrolling down to their links in the right hand column of the page.
Blackwatertown 
Chimbley, not chimney, surely?
When my mother was about 19, she was one of a group of female students who were interviewed by their local TV station about women in politics (think this was when Mrs Banadaranaike became PM of Ceylon & 1st female head of govt anywhere). Mum was smoking a clay pipe at the time and apparently the station got more letters complaining about that than about whether women should be running countries.
Good diversionary tactic by your Mum.
(And I’m sure you’re right about the smokestack.)
I started at age 15, gave it up at 21, 23 and 25 – by then up to 3 packs a day; no more; always like receiving your posts!
I’m glad you stopped giving up before you reached 20 a day (packs that is).
smile
Never have. Never will. Smoke, that is…
But clearly everything else is up for negotiation…
You betcha 🙂
Where do you get these little gems….rhetorical question. The ‘loight’ film was 2.18 minutes of sheer and simple delight. At pre 7am a lovely start to my day.
You sound like an early rising postman yourself.
I smoke!
Very good little film – you maverick you.
On July 6th, 2012 it will thirteen years since I smoked that last cigarette. It was the hardest thing I ever did; the smartest thing I ever did.
Blessings – Maxi
Smoking is sooo last millennium.
Well I’ve never smoked . Tobacco that is. Inhale? I’m not saying. Ahem. Good stuff. Love that film was great fun.
On the old banana skins, were you?
Now I’m trying to imagine our mailman carrying a guitar and singing a song as he hauls that heavy bag of junk mail up the street… Catchy tune, he must have been an interesting character.
In the days before junk mail the posties sang, nannies had flying brollies and pubs had lock-ins whenever you mood came over you.
Never smoked … tobacco.
Another fan of the banana skins.
An interest turn for the prompt. I might be weird, but, the girl and the pipe image I find oddly memorizing, I have a favourite light, light, light -‘light it up’ song as well. If you’d care to give it a listen, I uploaded it to the mothership.
“Nicotina -she’s all that” by Big Sugar
[audio src="http://www.beyondplumcreek.com/bpc_today/Nicotina.mp3" /]
Thanks for the tune. I can just hear the Singing Postman doing a version of that. On the other hand – no.
No one in my family smoked a pipe. Pipes will always remind me of Harold Wilson and his famous habit of laboriously lighting his pipe as some major emergency went on in the background.
I’ve never smoked myself. The revolting experience of one solitary cigarette at a tender age was enough to put me off for life.
I tried it, but it never grabbed me. Seemed vaguely disappointing.
My parents never smoked like chimneys, in fact they’d given up years ago, but it didn’t stop their chimney attacking their brand new white leather furnished lounge with tonnes of billowing black soot one seemingly innocent and friendly evening….nor did it prevent said soot bomb trashing their built into the chimney wall state of the art new fire thingy being trashed 😉 Sadly it didn’t convince the insurance man to pay them a nice sum of money to deal with the damage either 😉 At which point I would definitely have been smoking like a chimney!
Pipes were a common sight in our house when I was young, but it was the men who produced, cleaned then filled and smoked them. The pipes varied as much as the characters and the tobacco that filled them. Some had packets, others pouches and more had little tins. Nowadays I rarely see a pipe being smoked or enjoyed. Paul, you have brought me back to childhood and down memory lane.
Scars may come from burns, acne, cuts, surgery incisions or scrapes after falling off the monkey bars. Either way, every scar tells a story, and regardless if it’ a good or bad story, depending on where the scar is, we sometimes just want to make the scar disappear completely.