“Fire in the belly, that’s what you need,” shouted a red-faced man. “You won’t get anything from a sale if you don’t have fire in the belly!” He seemed pretty convinced by it. The rest of the national sales conference seemed to agree. The throng of identically suited men in attendance all raised themselves up and applauded. I sat still; remaining convinced they were applauding his ability to complete a rant without suffering from a heart attack. It struck me that adding a loud noise into the equation might be just the tipping point his corpulent (and unsettlingly moist) body didn’t need.
It’s probably no secret now that the vaping world is set to change dramatically in the UK. If this comes as news to you then I ought to point out that WWII ended successfully, Coventry have won an FA Cup and I’d try to avoid discovering how much petrol costs per gallon. Yes, vaping is soon to be not as we knew it.
People of a certain age will forever link the title of this post with a top shelf naturist magazine that was either an eye-opener or a bitter disappointment depending on your personal outlook. For some reason it always struck me as an incredibly odd journal – in the way that ones about buses or tractors didn’t. I imagine that a fair number of non-vapers would look at an ecig magazine similarly perplexed manner.
Let’s go all arty, let’s contemplate design. We can ponder on the pleasant aesthetics of the curve, the Euclidean beauty of the circle and (especially exciting for 80s Blondie fans) the fundamental simplicity of parallel lines. We all want vaping gear that works but many of us are put off by a visually challenging set up.
Standing in what used to be described as a garden, well some might still term it such but the puppy has put pay to it ever appearing on BBC2. Standing in the garden thinking about the events of the week with Totally Wicked and the EU court and the petition. And it struck me how much vaping saved my life.
Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel. Never ending or beginning on an ever-spinning reel. Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon. Like a carousel that’s turning running rings around the moon. Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face; and the world is like an apple whirling silently in space. Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind.
As a physicist I’ve held a long-term fascination with the aural and visual splendour of the subject. As an artist I hunt out aesthetic pleasure in everything and vaping is no exception. What is the point in art? To me it serves to illustrate life, provide answers to questions and give a sense that we are all part of something so much bigger than ourselves. The intrinsic beauty of art can both challenge and reward. Vaping is art.
You learn a lot about yourself when cramped into a house with people you are related to but wouldn’t have made the cut if you’d been given free reign with the invitation list. You learn a bit about your vaping kit as well, giving run outs to those that wouldn’t normally be seen in your hand.
Some people are worried about tropical wicks; others are concerned about sexually transmitted eliquids. Increasingly, more and more anti-vapers are being struck down by the silent and insidious nature of an ailment termed ‘Glantz’.
One bike, one ball, some fields of corn and Action Man were the highlights of my summer holiday. Not this one just gone, that would be more than slightly odd not least because I haven’t had a summer holiday this year. When I was a kid television only came on during the day for Crown Court and we used to have to lick t’road clean wi’t tongue.
