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We're beginning this evening with somewhat of a revelatory proclamation. I am attempting to give up smoking ' d'ya hear me? ' give up smoking!
It's January, the start of a New Year, so I decided it's time to kiss goodbye to those little white sticks of joy in their gold and white packet, much to the delight of my lady, my parents, my grandparents, the Archbishop of Canterbury, my Russian tutor , the rest of the Western world and their auntie. About 11:47 p.m. I stood out the back of 'The Cask' in New Brighton and chain smoked my last two fags, then decided that as I had given up smoking before I would easily be able to repeat this herculean feat and lead the life of a non smoker.
New Years day, it was fine. I had support from friends who had also given up and from my lady who, after an episode involving half a packet of Marlboro Lights and six 'Spanish' gins over Christmas, has reinforced that she 'hates smoking'. 'I like this' thinks I, and then went on to devour the entire contents of the house, the cupboards and the packaging that the food came in. Still, I hadn't behaved like Lucifer towards anybody, and if I could satisfy my cravings by becoming the size of a house rather than being a knob to people, then so be it.
Day two and things were still all fine and dandy. I didn't fancy a cigarette and I was hacking out my lungs, but praise to the baby Jesus it was for a good cause! So I went to Liverpool to look at some fish and a couple of lovely stuffed Emperor penguins. However, after the visit to the museum I strolled (sans Marlboro) down to the city centre to do some shopping and that was when the ugly head of addiction went 'BLAAAAAAAGHHH!!' It started in New Look where I was accused of 'hovering' but by the time we arrived at Topshop it was borderline biblical and by the time we left, I was ready to punch a passing Scouser for a fag. However, hear me out. I'm generally quite even tempered, but when it comes to shopping I'm not. It's possibly the most stressful experience you can ever put me in, but I'll deal with it. I'll be honest that I hate Topshop, as every bloke I've met who shops in there is an Topt**t, nothing from there ever fits me and the fact it's for men who are the size of a metrosexual weasel' in pastel colours. Combine this with some good ol' nicotine deprivation, you're faced with someone who is generally quite nice turning into someone behaving like a spoilt child (see: folding arms; huffing and puffing; stomping about like a South American dictator). All this was basically because I couldn't have what I wanted.
Today was very much the same to be honest. I woke up and wanted a smoke with my cup of coffee, but resisted. Then after I broke the news that I want to quit University to go to work, I fancied one of the cigarettes that are out in the kitchen's 'baccy box'' so I did. Don't get me wrong, there was something oh so pleasurable about the ritual of sparking one up; the flipping back of the white and gold lid, the removal of the little paper stick and finally the best part for any smoker, putting it in your mouth and hearing the friction of metal against flint, followed by the sight of a little flame and getting a lungful. I inhaled deeply and let the nicotine get into my system. I went dizzy. I felt like I was 14 again, smoking cheap fags with my mates down a sidestreet and I got that taste of, well' smoke in my mouth.
I'd let myself down, and saddest of all I realized that I'm a slave to tobacco. I turn to it when I have a drink, I turn to it when I have coffee, I turn to it when I'm bored and worst of all I turn to it in times of stress. This also made me reflect on the fact that I've probably smoked enough money (and therefore invested in Philip Morris) to buy an old Alfa, go on a nice holiday and fuel my new addiction; eating too much and drinking ginger beer by the crate. This makes me sad, as at least this way I'd have something to show for it, rather than a bi-annual hack ,'eau de Marlboro Light' aftershave, nicotine cravings and withdrawals. In short, I am a smoker.
So really, if you've given up smoking for the New Year I wish you the very best of luck. I also wish that you'll be smarter than me and not give in when the going gets tough, not only for your own sake, but also for that of your family and friends. They'll forgive you when you start eating the wallpaper and their weekly shop starts to cost more than the GNP of Zambia.
However, if you haven't started at all, you'll be smarter than any of us.