Hamish Champ: And I thought I had it tough...

Many licensees who fear that their livelihoods - and pub customers their way of life - will be hit for six thanks to the smoking ban have been making their voices heard during the last week, and quite right too.

After all, we all like to have a say - or moan - about 'our lot', especially when the path 'our lot' takes is adversely affected by circumstances or rules that we feel are beyond our control to change. God knows I've done my share of complaining about work-related stuff over the years, before being told by various bosses to come to them with "solutions, not problems". The charmers.

Still, I thought I'd share a story I heard recently that might make some people think their lot isn't so bad after all. True, it's not got much to do with the pub trade, but there you go...

My wife helps out at a local charity which provides cookers, fridges and basic furniture to those households in the area that can't afford them new - or secondhand for that matter.

One evening last week one of her volunteer colleagues delivered a cooker to an elderly couple who lived in a very small flat. He measured up the space available in their shoebox of a kitchen and realised the unit he had in the back of his van was too big and wouldn't fit.

He apologised to the couple and asked how they would cope; he assumed they had something like a microwave oven. They didn't. They couldn't afford one.

He looked around their kitchen. So how did they cook their food? he asked. The answer shocked him. "We heat up some water in a saucepan on a two ring hotplate, pop a can of something into the pan when the water's boiling, then wait for it to heat up."

He was staggered. As was I.

Here we are, in the 21st century, with an elderly couple so poor they make do for hot food by heating tins of food in a saucepan of boiling water on an electric hotplate. I know there are many deserving causes in the world, but I think this sort of situation, in a country like ours, borders on the criminal.

Sure, there's the old saying about the poor always being with us, and I guess this is as true today as it's always been. I just wish it wasn't.

I know one thing though; having to pop outside a pub for a cigarette shouldn't seem quite such a fag after all…