Across the pond

It is now 4 PM. Seven hours since I decided on the no smoking experiment, seventeen hours since I had my last cigarette before going to bed last night. My dominant feeling for the last two or three hours has been almost constant irritability. Happily I am alone this weekend; if there were anyone in the house I would be biting their heads off constantly.

Lunch was mixed. I chose the beef consomme, which was delicious. But the tunafish tasted mildly disgusting and I did not finish the whole tin. Maybe smokers are still longing for mummy’s milk.

Settling down to write this I am longing for a fag. Am seriously afraid that I won’t be able to last even seven days with out a cigarette. Remind myself it is in the interests of science. To see whether I can do it and see how it affects my health and behaviour.

My fear is that my lungs are so full of smoke that even if I never smoke again, my breathlessness will remain as bad and I shall go on coughing.

My other fear is that I shall go out of control and make a mess of something. Because unlike alcohol, pot and heroin, nicotine does not help you to abandon yourself to blissful feelings or give you the feeling that you are a great chap, who has the right to punch anyone who does not share your opinion.

By contrast nicotine enables you to keep control, not to be overwhelmed by external threats and by your own feelings of anger, grief, etc. And nicotine rewards you with minute injections of euphoria, which helps you to concentrate on difficult tasks.

Picture is  of the shrine of my favourite smoking objects. Let’s there is no more ash in the ashtrays.