Meet the mummies who mushroom

One of my first memories is my mother blowing smoke rings outside my bedroom door – after the bedtime story – before she turned out the light. Once she’d tucked us in, at the doorway she’d light up her Marlboro and wave the glow of it in the dark, its amber glow blurring to create shapes we’d beg her to make. That was 40 years ago. Now I’ve three kids of my own and my...