Tuesday, Day 2

Those of you who put up with my endless purile Facebook status updates 'Gone to bed now. Friday night sux', will not be surprised to hear the following. Indeed, many of you have been wondering how long it would take me to blog about it. In that case, whoever won that particular pool, better be buying me something nice. Anyway, for those in the know, now is the time to wash your hair, go put the kettle on, watch some car crash tv.

For the rest of you, consider this a public service anouncement. Don't give me any whiny shit, when you're picking your teeth out of the carpet. I did tell you so. You were warned.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I quit smoking. I am an ex-smoker. I no longer smoke. I smoke no more.

How do I feel about it? Truthfully, fucking grumpy.

I am in fact, a trucculent child; having to kiss the smelly, spinster aunt with the spiky chin whiskers who just gave me £5.00 for my birthday.

That is exactly how I feel. I'm doing it because it's good for me, that and the fact I promised my dad I would. I'm doing it because I took up smoking at a particular time in my life when I didn't cope. I am doing more than coping now and smoking feels out of place. I am doing it because it's supposed to be good for me and all the incessant nagging...

It was on my List of Things to Do. January was all about exercise; February was supposed to be all about meditation, but that hasn't happened; March was giving up smoking; April was to focus on healthier eating. Sometimes the best laid plans have to be shuffled around a bit. I was finding cutting back my smoking incredibly stressful. I'd capped my smoking to 9 a day since I came back from Trinidad. Out there I was smoking anywhere from 12 - 18 a day. The day of my dad's wake, I gave up counting. The last few days I was stressing out so much about cutting it down, I just had enough. So at 2 am Valentine's Day, I lit and smoked my last.

I'm doing it cold turkey. No nicotine patches, replacements or crutches will be used. If I struggled cutting down the fags, I'm going to struggle cutting down the nicotine. I might as well just lump it and get on with it.

Yesterday, I was high on oxygen. No other explanation. I was bouncing around annoying people virtually and IRL. Today, I feel like I've got PMS times 2. At about 5 o'clock this afternoon, I was ready to head to the shop to get some more accoutrements (when I announced I'd given up yesterday morning, Boy gathered up all my stuff and sold it to his friends at school. Got to admire the entrepreneurial spirit). I'm sticking with it, moaning about it. But I am determined. Boy very helpfully found a widget for my PC. It throws up helpful tips, hints and facts, counts the time since I last smoked and how much money I've since saved. Given I smoked small roll-ups, it lies about the last point.

Anyway, this non-smoking thing is temporary, just to warn you. I'm going to pick it up again when I'm 70. I figure if I live that long, I'll be entitled to a few pleasures.