Funky Town and road rage

This blog is meant to be about smoking, and the giving up of.
So how are we doing?
Well, at the moment, the Angel and the Devil have sort of shaken hands and are on a truce.
I have cut down - halved in fact. I no longer smoke in the house or in the car. I took the ashtray out of the car, to curb temptation, and usually don't take cigarettes with me when I go out. This is fine - I'm actually surprised that I'm not shooting off at the first opportunity to delve into my handbag.
I do smoke in the conservatory - and this time of year it's beginning to get pretty cold out there. It will get colder.

So this morning - well late morning actually, as it's Saturday and the alarm is not set, I succumbed to Hannah's pleadings to go "into town" as we say, and set off for another shopping spree, leaving cigarettes at home.

I paid for three hours in the car park (the price doubles for longer, and anyway that's about my shopping stress level limit!)

It was very busy in West Quay. Not pre-Christmas loony shopping busy, or January sales busy, but still very crowded. It was fine for a while - we bought some clothes for each of us. But I really really wanted a coffee and a cigarette. It really bugged me. I was surprised by that. Must be the stress. The shops were overheated, and so many people in the way. So many bags to carry. Long queues at the tills.

Anyway, we finished up in Ikea. I intended to go to Ikea all along, but to be honest it isn't really the sort of place you can just nip into quickly, with less than an hour on the clock. For a start it takes forever to to reach the entrance, on the top, up all those travelators, or whatever they are called. Then you have to find your way through the showroom. (I have my eye on a sofa though - we both sat on it and didn't want to get up!)

Escaping from there we made our way to the restaurant - a place of devious complexity where everyone else seems to know the system. We only wanted drinks - the queue for the food was horrendous. So we end up with a tray with my coffee, Hannah's lemonade, and two muffins. (Hey, if I'm not puffin', let's muffin!). Finding a table I went to set the tray down and my bag slipped off my shoulder and sent the whole lot crashing. no harm done - the muffins were safe, the cups easily refilled, and only my right trouser leg took a soaking.

Finally got back to the car with just five minutes to spare. They are playing Funky Town on the radio. LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!!

On the way home I could mentally see that packet of Sterling and lighter on the little table in the conservatory. and all the lights were green. Ah. Fifteen minutes max.

There's a place where I join the main road via a slip road. No problem, normally it all goes smoothly and everyone filters in nicely. I speed up to pull in ahead of a blue car a fair way back. It accelerates. Fast. I have to slow again to let it it by, and pull out behind. It was a BMW. It had to be. Why is it always a BMW? The car who tailgates, or cuts you up? They are good cars - is there something written in the franchise that dealers may only sell them to complete pillocks? Of course the speed limit drops to 50 shortly after on that road, and traffic was fairly heavy, so I followed that blue BMW nearly all the way home. I was so mad at him (I'm assuming it was a him) and that's not like me. I don't get road rage. Sometimes someone does something silly or annoying and i just think "twit" and that's it. I make mistakes myself, and call myself a twit quite often too. But I was fuming then.

So mulling all this over - the unexpected craving for a smoke in the middle of town, and the unaccustomed road rage - I can only conclude that if I really want to quit smoking I must give something else up too.

Shopping. At least on a Saturday.

Holy Smoke!

OK I haven't posted for a few days. Haven't been doing well at all to be honest - the number is rising...

Now my Catholic friends are probably wondering - can't I get some spiritual help with this? Well yes, I hope so. Trouble is, both the Bible and the Church teachings remain very silent on this subject. Is smoking a sin? Well, over-indulgence probably falls under the heading of Gluttony, along with cream cakes and one-too-many on the wine front. But it doesn't seem to be actually a sin itself. One of you - Penny I think -offered to track down a patron saint of smokers (or rather trying-to-stop smokers). Any luck? Did any of the saints enjoy a cigar after dinner, meditate with their pipes, or have twenty Woodbine in their pockets along with their rosary?

I don't know.

Looking to some of my 20th century Catholic writer heroes, (the mid 20th century seemingly the peak of smoking popularity) I'm finding they all seem to suffer from this vice!


Here's J R R Tolkien














And G K Chesterton...















And in case non-Catholic Christians are feeling smug,
here's C S Lewis apparently setting himself on fire:
So I'm not getting much support from these guys!

Hmmm....

A Quick Puff

Not much time today, so here is a classic clip from Dave Allen - which I identify with very well!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4cT-BQLX6nU

Growing up in Smoke

Like a great many of my generation, I was practically kippered from birth. Both my parents smoked - although my mother only a few, and in fact she quit completely when I was 15. I remember dad smoking Woodbines, and also rolling his own (Old Holborne - the tins were subsequently used in the shed for keeping nails and screws). Does anyone remember rolling cigarettes as a child for daddy? Maybe he had one of those natty little machines, that were tricky but fun. If you put the paper in the wrong way, you got an inside-out ciggy!

Then people smoked everywhere. Buses, trains, shops, cinemas, restaurants, offices.... On buses smoking was allowed upstairs, not downstairs. (Single decker buses allowed smoking at the rear). Of course all us young 'uns always went upstairs. Somewhere I heard the saying "Romantics Upstairs, Rheumatics Downstairs". Only old fogeys sat downstairs - we wanted to be up top where it was fun! Yes it stank of stale smoke, but we didn't care. There are worse smells on buses, especially late at night, believe me...

The first office I worked in we were only allowed to smoke up in the "Rest Room" where we could have our coffee and lunch breaks. I didn't smoke when I first started work - a rather timid 20 year old. I had smoked a bit at college with other students but didn't inhale and never bothered about it much. Now the people in the Rest Room naturally fell into two camps - the smokers at one table, the non- smokers at the other. So why did I gravitate towards the smokers? Were they more relaxed, laughed more, friendlier? To be honest, yes. The non-smoking ladies tended to be young marrieds, who discussed new curtains and where they got their hair done. I wanted better conversation than that!

Anyway, a few months after starting work there, I was out one evening in a pub with some friends who were smoking. So as to be sociable, I bought a pack from a machine. That first packet lasted me a fortnight. The second lasted a week.... and the damage was done. So easy, so acceptable, so normal.

I need to do some research I think, into how the practice of inhaling the smoke from the smouldering dried leaves of a particular plant became as popular as dancing, yet more addictive than heroin. And why it took so long for people to realise it.

Anyway, this is now the end of Day 3 - "no comment" as the politicians say.


This, and the next couple of posts, may make you think I actually approve of smoking and don't want to stop. Bear with me though, as I need to work through this.

HAVE FAITH!

Introduction

I chose the title of this blog for two reasons. No three - my first two choices were already taken!

Firstly, I grew up with this "big cigarette" dominating the landscape. It's a great landmark - hard to lose your sense of direction for long round here - and visible for many miles.

Secondly, and most personally, I've been hooked on the dreaded ciggies for over 30 years. Time to really lose this millstone round my neck? I hope so, I pray so.


So how am I doing?

Day 1

Well yesterday was day one. Great! Had the last one at 10am then went round the house and threw lighter and all ashtrays in the bin! Oh that felt good. So nice and clean now, a new me, a new home, a new life. Tidied up, walked down to the shop (how healthy!) walked past the kiosk where they sell the darn things with a smug smile on my face, and walked home again. Still felt good!


Felt a bit tired by then, just wanted to sit down now with a cup of coffee and a....oh crap.


The initial smugness was wearing off, and after 3 hours the cravings were starting to kick in. No, I was gonna be strong here! And it was mostly ok. Got a bit uptight in the evening when all the kids were home (and did eat a lot of sweets) but otherwise still good. Found I had some nicotine gum in a drawer - been there since last time I tried this - and that helps a bit although it's not very nice, is like chewing a chillie, and gives terrible hiccups. Cutting out the smokes also meant cutting down on the coffee - found myself drinking tea more - and I went to bed early. And amazingly slept for longer than I have done for years. Woke up at 5 am (it's usually 3) but that's


DAY 2


Shaking. Yes, feeling really wobbly. And light headed. Went down to make coffee at 6.30 and took it back to bed. It tasted horrible.

It's really really hard to do anything - anything at all. Just want to curl up in a ball. i knew this would happen - I've been here before.

So I took my son to work, and driving back was going through a devil v. angel argument in my head:



Stop at the shop and buy just 10 - you can have them in the garden.

No, don't stop. You did this before, and just ended up back at square one.

But I feel really terrible. I'll never get anything done today if I don't have one.


OK I stopped at the shop. And bought 10. I have 6 left now.
Sigh - Devil 1 Angel 0 today.