The Last Fag

[limey]

I worked at Donisthorpe Colliery during the summers of 1974 and 1975. I was a “Student Apprentice Mining Engineer” (orange reflective stripe on helmet) and performed my “face training” at Donisthorpe.

I loved working there. The “regular” guys were a lot of fun, and I took my fair share of having my leg pulled – but it was always in good fun and never had any hint of being malicious or nasty. I got along well with the face workers and because I was “management” they always pushed me to the front of the queue for the ride up the shaft at the end of our shift. Of course, I never stayed for any overtime so they always reckoned I was “on a promise” – the only acceptable excuse for refusing overtime! We worked day and afternoon shifts on a weekly rotation. The night shift was for maintenance.

The day shift went underground at 7:00am (I think). So we would typically arrive at the bath house around 6:30am. This would give us time to change, collect our lamp, rescuer and tally, and wander, sleepily, over to the pithead. It was at the pithead that one of my favorite rituals took place – that of the “last fag”. I didn’t smoke, so I was simply an observer of this ritual, but it was a great time to talk about what was on telly last night, or their favorite alternate topic – my love life! As you know, smoking was strictly forbidden underground, so those addicted would need the maximum nicotine input in the final moments before entering the airlock.

Filter tipped cigarettes did not seem to fit the miner’s style. If I remember correctly, Player’s Navy Cut, or Woodbines were the “fag” of choice but the trick was to extract the absolute maximum from the cigarette. This meant smoking it down until it was burning the fingers, then re-gripping the last little nub, typically between the very tip of the thumb and forefinger to get that last drag. It is this image, of a burly coalminer, dressed in his “pit cloths”, helmet on, battery and rescuer on his belt, lamp around his neck and fag daintily gripped for that last gasp, that is burned into my memory. A fun time in the last few moments before descending into that black hole.

Of course, there was also the cigarette and match hidden in a crack somewhere around the pithead to be smoked immediately upon release. Perhaps this was a gesture of optimism that would ensure their safe return to the surface?

[John]

I used to keep mine in my tool cupboard in the workshops, first place I'd make for after we'd come out the pit at the end of a shift, that and a hot cuppa before heading for the showers. Afternoon shift being the exception, after all, 8-00pm finish, I could smoke a ciggie on the way to the pub!

[limey]

We used to take a shower before hitting the canteen - it took me a while to recognise the men I worked with without their "pit dirt"!

Like you, on afternoon shift it was straight to the pub! (The "Middle Bull" in Ashby de-la Zouch!)

[John]

Never touched canteen tea Eric, worst mud in the world. Used to keep a packet of Typhoo, bag of sugar and a can of Nestles condensed milk in the cupboard. There was a home made water boiler over the sink in the electric shop, ever full and always on the boil!
Mind you, we all had canteen mugs on long term loan!

[limey]

I must say, I agree on the canteen tea. I never did figure it out - and was equally bad no matter which pit you went to!

When I first went to the NCB I was at Snibston pit in Coalville working with the mechs. They had an "Engine Shed" (I think it is still there) where they maintained the two diesel locos. Anyhow, the diesel mechanic always had a pot of tea going - and seemed to like us young uns dropping by, so it became a popular "snap time" hangout - and his tea was delicious! Our job was to provide the milk and the Daily Mirror!

[John]

An odd thing Eric, canteen tea was at least consistent pit to pit, it always tasted bad and the same. Made one feel at home whichever pit you were at.

[dazbt]

Dirty filthy habit !!!!!

I think it was the sudden realisation of just how dependent I had become, on that last cig before going down and the uncontrollable craving for the first cig on getting out, the pathetic desperation of it all, that finally made my mind up.. Hours spent underground without even a thought given to ’needing’ a cigarette, yet as soon as I set off outbye the craving started, until I just couldn’t wait until the soddin cage decked, the desperate race across the pit yard to the stashed Park Drive and a match, I was a victim of my own causing. The almost strangling effect that this addiction was inflicting on my life finally became too much and I am proud to say, that once I had made the decision to forsake the filthiest of habits known to working man, I gave it up, in an instant, no messing about weaning my myself off it with the aid of drugs, just went ’cold turkey’ and stopped. I have to admit that I did worry about stopping it so abruptly at first, but on reflection, retirement isn’t such a bad thing after all and I’ve still enough income from the pension to keep me in whisky and cigs, I can smoke when I want and I am no longer dependant on the filthiest of habits, crawling about ‘shearer chasing’ in yard high seams.

[John]

dazbt said:

Dirty filthy habit !!!!!

I think it was the sudden realisation of just how dependent I had become, on that last cig before going down and the uncontrollable craving for the first cig on getting out, the pathetic desperation of it all, that finally made my mind up.. Hours spent underground without even a thought given to ’needing’ a cigarette, yet as soon as I set off outbye the craving started, until I just couldn’t wait until the soddin cage decked, the desperate race across the pit yard to the stashed Park Drive and a match, I was a victim of my own causing. The almost strangling effect that this addiction was inflicting on my life finally became too much and I am proud to say, that once I had made the decision to forsake the filthiest of habits known to working man, I gave it up, in an instant, no messing about weaning my myself off it with the aid of drugs, just went ’cold turkey’ and stopped. I have to admit that I did worry about stopping it so abruptly at first, but on reflection, retirement isn’t such a bad thing after all and I’ve still enough income from the pension to keep me in whisky and cigs, I can smoke when I want and I am no longer dependant on the filthiest of habits, crawling about ‘shearer chasing’ in yard high seams.

I'm starting to worry about you Daz. ;D ;D

I gave up the weed over 30 years back now, the year before I started at Boulby Mine, good job, they were safety lamp.
As for the other dirty habit of crawling around the shearer, gave that up almost 40 years ago when I found out coal seams come thicker than 4 foot high!

[dazbt]

"I'm starting to worry about you Daz."

Don't worry about me J ..................
I used to, but being a true Socialist I have, over the years, come to realise that it is the job of my consultant cardiologist and chest specialist to do the worrying, there is no way that I would want anyone to do their job for them and in any way jepordise their livelihood, they both make a decent living out of worrying about the state of my health, like me, you should leave it to the professionals.

[gaz]

I loved the first one after a shift, god knows why after all the dust during a shift. I reckon chewing bacca and taking snuff helped me pack up the fags as I was still getting my nicotine!

I could still fancy a chew even now

[erichall]

Started in 1958 as a Student Apprentice and worke my way through just about every job underground (and a lot on the surface) until I eventually took the route - Shotfirer, Deputy, Overman, B'S Undermanager and Undermanager- until I finished as Safety Engineer.
Like all of you, the last drag before going underground and the first gasp after reaching the surface were the finest moments in life. Got into real trouble with the wife when, as U/m, I took the call at home from the afternoon overman. I automatically picked up the phone, pulled the notepad and pen close and said 'Yes?' I would then tuck the phone under my chin, and light my beloved fag. A perfect example of multi-tasking! But the complaints from She Who Must Be Obeyed still go on. I had to finish my 50-a-day when, on holiday, I found myself waking up and wretching, bringing back stale nicotine. I wwent 'cold turkey' far from easy, but maintained it.
Having tried a chew at training and not finding it pleasant, I never wanted to tyry that habit again. i became a bit of a devil, however, for 'a bit up,Gaffer' and had my calling spots. I remember pulling up at the picket line during the '84 strike, and telling one of my Development workers (a close friend outside pit) that 'It's time you idle so & so's got back to work. I've had to BUY MY OWN SNUFF, TODAY' Although I've left that area in my retirement, if I go back, and see him, he always automatically reaches for his snuff, and we recall that day, then have a go 'natter' about old times.

[Sam from Kent]

One night I had a raging toothache and I wanted to go home, but we were short staffed so the Shift Engineer persuaded me to stay on. He offered me a chew of bacca, as this will numb the pain. Unfortunately, I never chewed bacca before (and definitely haven't chewed it since) and I swallowed the juice. I was violently sick in a man hole with the shift engineer standing behind me saying "......see I told you you would forget about the toothache!"