NO THANKS I DON’T DO THAT ANYMORE

 

Well, where to begin my name is Harry and I have given up, no that’s not right that’s like saying I have given up Russian roulette, so, is it quit or stopped, perhaps its ceased, no that’s too close to deceased, anyway I don’t smoke anymore.

 

As I said my name is Harry and I am optimistically middle aged, by that I mean that I accept there is no guarantee that I am in the middle of my life, but I am optimistic. 

I am actually forty-five years old, at least for another twenty one days I’m forty five and I suppose I could be described as a “well made” not in the terms of an Adonis more like solid or sturdy or robust some might even say “well proportioned”. I’ll give you what I think is a rather cruel analogy; I have a friend, Ted who is half my size and could easily be described as a runt. Now it has been said that my mate Ted looks as if he’s been through a famine and that I look as if I had caused it. That should give you some idea of what the term “well made” actually means.

So as I was saying I am forty-five years old “well built” and a serious smoker for the past twenty-five years.

 

So, what prompted me to stop?

It certainly wasn’t the insufferable bores who wave their hands energetically in front of them and cough irritatingly while simultaneously rolling there tongue out and grimacing whenever they are in a smoker’s presence.

People like that only make you wish you smoked a pipe.

Nor was it the endless health warning where smoking was the cause of every illness from cancer and heart disease to athlete’s foot and piles. I think every smoker accepts that smoking is harmful to your health, but they take a gamble that it won’t happen to them that was certainly my view.

Even the fact that my brother, who is five years my senior, had a series of heart attacks when he was my age didn’t deter me from smoking. And I was feeling the effects of smoking like the morning cough and the breathless gasps climbing stairs. 

National no smoking day was always an amusing concept I feel sure it would be more successful if it was the day after national smoking day when all the sanctimonious little prigs would have to have at least five good drags on a Woodbine.

That would give them something to cough about

Then there is the annual ritual of the Chancellors Budget, when anything which might give the slightest pleasure to the great unwashed, must be taxed.

But even having to pay more for the privilege didn’t persuade me to stop smoking for many years. But I think it is what finally pushed me over the edge.

The problem was the fact that I choose to be a smoker and I enjoyed it.

Although some people will tell you it’s not that you enjoy smoking but that you're addicted. That just used to make me mad.  

 

But once I had made the decision to stop, how to go about it.

I really didn’t fancy hypnosis just in case they discovered I was the reincarnated embodiment of Atilla the Hun, Vlad the Impaler or even worse a New Labour supporter.

Acupuncture was never going to do it for me as I think that as with most alternative treatments if you don’t one hundred percent believe in them then they will never work.

Also there is something faintly ridiculous about someone who sticks pins in people for a living.

Then we have nicotine substitutes, patches, chewing gum, lozenges, tablets or inhalers, all designed to replace the nicotine you would normally get from tobacco.

Personally, if you want an efficient means of getting nicotine into your system then have a fag.

Now as a confirmed cynic I happen to think that nicotine substitutes are more effective at keeping affluent Pharmaceutical companies affluent than helping people to break the habit of smoking.

So, I chose cold turkey, why they call it that I don’t know, with a little positive thinking and will power.

It was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be.

The first week is by far the hardest but you do start to feel the benefits, such as more energy, improved sense of taste and smell and tackling the stairs without getting breathless, which boosts you up when your will power might get a little shaky.

 

I think the hardest thing is social events especially those involving alcohol, but it can be done. I never really suffered any withdrawal symptoms, but I have suffered the most extraordinary side effects in the form of unusual and extraordinarily vivid dreams.

Take last night for example, I should firstly mention that under no circumstances could I be described as a Cricket fan and my knowledge of the game is non-existent, this may seem an odd way to start but trust me it is relevant.

I was selected to represent England in a test match against the West Indies in Trinidad. I don’t know why it was Trinidad specifically, but it was.

If that wasn’t amazing enough, I was to open the batting with Phil Tufnell, see I said I knew nothing about Cricket.

Now for some reason there was an unpronounceable Pakistani bowling and I hit the last ball of his first over for a huge six.

As I began acknowledging the crowd’s applause, Tuffers began walking down the wicket so I walked to the middle to meet him, he shook my hand warmly and then he reached into his pocket and brought out a packet of menthol cigarettes and offered me one. And we stood there smoking.

We saw the West Indies Captain talking animatedly with the Umpire and they turned their gaze on myself and Tuffers and walked towards us. I naturally thought we were in big trouble and even Phil looked a little nervous.

As they reached us the Umpire said, “I am sorry Gentlemen to interrupt your smoke break, but do you think I could trouble you for a match”? And he took out his pipe.

Which was how things continued, after every over we would meet in the middle and have a smoke.

And that is fairly typical of the dreams I have been having.

There is the one with the Olsen twins and a Cuban cigar, but I am not going into that one at the moment I think I’ll leave it for another time.

 

I suppose the big questions are firstly, do I miss it? And the answer is, Yes, I do.

Not that I have a craving, what I miss is the habit, the ritual and feel of a cigarette in my hands, and secondly would I ever smoke again? The answer to which being, yes in a heartbeat but I would probably regret it.