Geoff and I were friends right through school during the 60s and early 70s, and we had similar interests. On one occasion, my mum needed a week in hospital for an operation and recovery, my dad was working and there was a school break, so I was spending the days with Geoff and his family until Dad got home. Geoff’s dad was at work too, so most days we’d spend at his house with his mum and older sister.
On this particular day, we knew the latter were going into town for a little shopping, and we had other plans while they were out. My dad smoked a pipe and occasionally cigars – it was never a lot, mostly just over the weekends, but I’d always like the smell as he smoked them, and Geoff and I had frequently talked about wanting to try a cigar. One day I noticed a pack of five small cigars in the kitchen bin, the top was open and I thought I could see cigars still inside – on closer inspection there were two. So I slipped the packet into my pocket and hid them in my bedroom until I went to Geoff’s.