I'm just packing my bags and moving up to the penthouse.
I'm leaving these few comments as a reminder.
When I was a smoker I used to be convinced that it was going to somehow be the cause of my early demise.
I always intended to quit before I had kids. (Failed)
I intended to quit when my wife was pregnant. (Failed)
I intended to quit before I was 40. (Failed)
Dreadful thoughts used to occupy my mind regarding my son, whoâ€™s now nine, such as,
â€œI hope I live long enough for him to remember me.â€
â€œI hope to see him graduate.â€
â€œI hope I get to see him marryâ€
â€œI hope to become a grandparentâ€
â€¦ scary huh..?
Iâ€™m so pleased to say that since giving up not one of those morbid thought enter my mind and I have the sheer pleasure of fighting those constant battles with a delightful and energetic nine year old.
Similarly my life used to be ruled by the constant need to ensure an adequate supply of tobacco and those fretful times when packs were depleted and shops were shut and I took un-necessary detours to find 24 hour petrol stations and motorway services.
I remember times of panic when I couldnâ€™t find my fags or even worse a downpour and bad location of fags resulting in a wet packet of un-smokeable ciggies and the following angst.
I still see smokers talk of the stress reducing qualities of the habit and how much they enjoy it but frankly there is just no comparison that can be made for me.
If I look at how I was then compared to how I am now the difference is stunning.
12 months on Iâ€™m a happier, healthier and slightly wealthier chappie.