Huffing and Puffing

This morning was the first day in this current remission that I haven't felt much better for quitting. It's hard to say whether this is as a result of being tired, in the fifth week of an eight week term, or perhaps slightly under the weather from too late a night and interrupted sleep, or a slight decline in the euphoria experienced by any smoker who has broken the gravity of its grip over one's physiology, however temporarily. The illusion is similar in some respects to those astronauts seen training in aeroplanes which create the momentary weightlessness experienced when after a steep climb they turn to dive leaving the occupants floating around for a few seconds. After the delirium of breathing fresh air for the first time in years now the disappointment of not having yet entirely expelled the detritus of smoking in just over a week. The dawning realisation that it will take hard work, persistence and resolution to build on the initial launch into the clearer atmosphere.

Temptation remains everywhere. Perhaps the route I chose, or should I say which chose me with the incorrect prescription, has too many reminders to entirely break the spell. By accident I was issued with a nicotine replacement inhalator - a plastic cigarette-holder looking device into which nicotine capsules are fitted and which, on sucking, gives one a hit of old nicotine. Not only does it calm the craving, it gives one something to do with ones hands and is a most satisfactory oral substitute, which as a non-breast fed baby may be at the root of my habitual desire if psychologists are to be believed at all. They work quite effectively given their maximum allowed dosage of 12 a-day, a number I have yet to reach or exceed. I have already tried to alter my timetable of smoking, by avoiding my first pseudo fag-of-the-day and eating breakfast only after 20-30 minutes exercise. I allow myself a false snout with coffee and then almost chew the end off one on the drive to work.

This morning I didn't allow myself one - or the time in which to do so - until I was driving along the heath road. I had a full day which turned out to be full of incidences of truculence with adolescents and wondered whether I had temporarily fallen off my pedestal and was allowing my fall from reformed smoking grace to affect my response to provocation. Maybe not only I but the kids are tired from the efforts demanded by the longest term of the year. Maybe I am making excuses. Maybe they really were horrors. Would it have been easier with a real cigarette or did it just seem so? Is this the insidious nature of the weed rearing its sneaky and very attractive head (at least to a smoker)? Therein lies the nature of addiction. As I puffed and panted my way, or as I found myself telling two of the miscreants "huffing and puffing"through a very testing day I examined myself for signs of both weakness and resolve. Tomorrow it is two weeks since I last smoked. Perhaps I have reached a critical moment when I am truly about to escape the pull of gravity and move into a higher orbit. Or perhaps an early night is in order!

Or maybe I need to check out this site which claims that 'Smoking will be sexy again'. It features a blonde, fag between fingers, stocking top showing and is for a new product, SNT. See http://www.smokenotar.com/ or 08000845001 (24/7). Is there no end to this delusion? This product even gets round the smoking ban! Maybe I'll get one to try out... It's a long and slippery slope, I know!