For the first time in history, sex is more dangerous than the cigarette afterward. Jay Leno
Nicotine patches are great. Stick one over each eye and you can't find your cigarettes. Unknown
Tobacco and alcohol, delicious fathers of abiding friendships and fertile reveries. Luis Buñuel
I gave up smoking on 9th September 2008. I chose that day and month so that I would remember it no matter what country I was in. For although I've gotten used to the American date format of "month day", sometimes I revert to the more sensible Australian-Euro "day, month".
My mother smoked, my father smoked, my brother smokes. And until 9/9/08 I thought I'd never stop. I smoked more than anyone I I've ever known, except perhaps my father. I'd wake in the night craving a cigarette. My mother claimed I smoked even when I was gardening, but she was wrong there; I gardened while I smoked.
Smoking was the primary thing. Other activities somehow fitted in around it.
There are hardly any photos of me as an adult without a cigarette in my hand.
Here I am on my 37th birthday. Smoking.
Until about five years ago I never even contemplated kicking the habit. And then in 2006 I think it was, at Auckland airport on a one hour stop-over, instead of wandering around the shops and having a coffee, I dutifully joined the other smokers in the smokers room. I had an epiphany. I didn't HAVE to smoke. And so the thought germinated and grew until in August 2008 when I decided to take the plunge.
For the first and only time in my life, I gave up smoking.
I was surprised. It wasn't so hard. A few days of cravings and then ...
However I still do miss my cigarettes now and then. Every month or so, I'll remember how nice it was, having a cigarette with coffee after a meal. There's nothing like it. I don't kid myself.
But I have my memories ...
And shall have to be content with those.