How to find yourself on the street

The Last Straw: It may be too early yet for definitive pronouncements about the smoking ban, but I think we can tentatively agree that none of the worst-case scenarios has come to pass.

Life in rural Ireland has not collapsed (or surely we'd have heard). There's been no sign of refugee camps at the Border, or lines of heavily-laden vehicles heading North on the M1 as smokers flee oppression in the South. On the contrary, anecdotal evidence from all corners of Ireland suggests the law has been embraced with something bordering on enthusiasm, and without the "bedding-in" period the Minister for Health himself thought night be necessary.

The authorities can only be heartened by reports such as that from Michael O'Malley (Letters to the Editor, Thursday), describing the strict observance of the ban he noticed in an unnamed pub in the west. It was 1.30 a.m., he wrote, yet, at regular intervals, customers interrupted their illegal drinking to go outside and smoke. Good news, indeed! As far as I'm aware, the laws on closing time date back to the 19th century, and the bedding-in period continues, obviously. But no sooner has the smoking ban been run up the flag-pole than the people of the west have saluted.

By the way, I don't know whether Mr O'Malley himself smokes, but I note his letter begins with the phrase: "Recently, I found myself standing outside a rural bar." And intentionally or not, I think he has touched on a beneficial side-effect of the new law, which is that it will encourage a philosophical epiphany among those forced to spend time outside pubs, observing the world go by. Rural bars are better for this sort of thing, but I hope that even some Dublin smokers will soon find themselves too.

Meanwhile, the law has transformed life in the city. With all the people standing around on footpaths, smoking, Dublin has acquired some of the atmosphere of a Mediterranean port. It's especially noticeable on weekend nights, when the groups of smokers are swelled by laughing senoritas in flimsy dresses, and young men with love in their eyes. You could almost be in some balmy Spanish resort, except for the fact that it's raining, and the nearest things to palm trees are gas-fired terrace heaters.

The anti-ban campaign formally conceded defeat this week when the Licensed Vintners Association (LVA) launched a new promotion for Dublin pubs with the slogan: "The atmosphere's got even better." This is of course a pun on the increased availability of oxygen in licensed premises. But hard-line smokers would probably disagree with its other meaning: that the ambience of pubs has improved.

One veteran militant I know, now on complete cessation from smoking activities but still sympathetic to the movement's aims, even argues that there is a link between nicotine addiction and the possession of a personality.

As he foresaw it, the ban would work like a giant extractor fan, removing all traces of charisma from pub interiors, where the only people left would sip bottled water in awkward silence. It was a controversial opinion. But even if he's proved half right, the law should be more effective for the vintners than any promotional campaign, forcing all the pub "characters" out on to the street at frequent intervals, where they will attract new custom into the premises by the sheer force of their personalities.

It remains to be seen how the law will work in summertime. There's obvious potential for problems on hot, airless days, when non-smokers want to sit outside pubs and cafés, and find not only that the smokers have taken all the seats, but that there's a dense pall of smoke hanging over the neighbourhood.

My suggestion is that the law could be amended so that, on warm days, smoking would only be allowed indoors. The "trigger" mechanism could be a temperature of, say, 24 degrees Celsius, as predicted on the previous night's weather forecast, allowing bars time to switch the "no smoking" signs and ashtrays around. It might seem unfair to force smokers indoors during uncomfortably hot weather. But remember they would have the benefit of the excellent ventilation systems that many pubs claimed they had last year.

As I say, it's too early to claim the ban is a complete success. But we can at least agree with the LVA spokesman, who said: "It hasn't been a disaster, that's clear".

In fact, all sorts of things are clear now - even betting shops. Before the ban, a typical bookies' office was like a fire in a cigarette factory. Now, the atmosphere has changed completely. Indeed, I found myself in a betting shop recently. And as a result of this dramatic breakthrough, I've given up gambling and am leading a better life.