Hi, my name is Dave, I’m 58 and I am not prepared.
I had to go to the Doctors the other day, nothing terminal, but a nasty issue, directly smoking related.
I’ve got the support, being a Brit, of the NHS for an annual crack at giving up with prescribed “stuff”, I’ve got 20/day patches, gum and spray, ALL for free! It’s all sat on the shelf looking at me.
I managed 48hrs without because I couldn’t smoke, and have had 1/2 a pack in the last two days of which I have two left which I’m hanging onto like a junkie in Pointless Park. I will confess now that I have carried out the smokers “out of ciggies” whole house survey which reveals a tin with two roll-ups in it and an ashtray in the garage with three butt ends in. The butts are in the bin, the tin now has No8 woodscrews in it. (In my mind, I am tracking the bin bag, I know exactly where those butt ends are, I know that’s wrong, I know that’s bad, I know exactly where they are).
I wasn’t prepared for this, tomorrow is kick off day and it feels like it has been forced upon me and I’m already beginning to sweat.
For those interested, I’m going to use this as a bit of a blog, possibly to rant, but at least you will probably learn a bit of Welsh slang.
