So here’s the thing. It has now been three weeks – well in one hour and fifty minutes it will be. I have used Champix, that is fair enough, I have tried everything else. I love this drug, it hasn’t sent me nuts it has taken away the ‘physical addiction’ part – for which I am and will always be truly grateful.

What is left? The strangest things. I never realised how hugely habitually addicted I was. Everyday I hit against yet another thing that is associated with smoking. I caught the train the other day, had to catch a really early one. The usual routine would be three fags one the walk to the station, buy the ticket, pop outside and suck down two more, sit on the train and get agitated and the second I got off aim for the exit in order to have some relief. I realised how desperate I was the last time I was in London, I did the mad dash outside but then couldn’t find my cigarettes. I was searching my pockets, my bag, again and again and this guy sitting on the floor offered up one of his – he obviously knew what desperation looked like. Sad eh.

So now, what is missing in my life? something to stick in my mouth. The rituals surrounding smoking are glorious and time consuming, they are finely tuned and thoroughly learned. Practiced to perfection. Stope them? there is a massive hole in your day.

So – boiled sweets seem to be the answer for the time being. I don’t actually ‘want’ a cigarette, I don’t miss the taste, I don’t miss standing in the rain, standing in the cold, having an empty purse, smelling cigarettes on me, stains on my teeth, the never ending offering to the addiction that was and is never ever truly satisfied, I don’t miss those things. What I miss is the reason to get up and move around, and something to stick in my mouth. For decades upon decades I have done the same ritual every single day of my life numerous times, and now it isn’t there – that is weird.

(So I forgot to actually publish this last week – so an update will come pretty quickly after 😉

SaveSave