Woke up feeling so different this morning, so took a chance and went back to my usual morning routine - up, downstairs, coffee, toast, email - only bit missing being fag in conservatory.
So, after lunch, I retrieved my "taunting packet" (with 19 left in it) from top of kitchen worktop and had one. Well, about an inch and a half, actually, and felt viciously sick, with a vile thick and dirty taste in mouth and stinking horrid fingers. That was the moment when I knew it was all going to work out just fine, so everything - down to the last box of matches, Zippo, empty pack, dog end at side of house - is now quite happily in the bin. (Those who have seen my other missives on here may remember that I kept hold of all that stuff in an attempt to face the fear rather than bury it - after all, the temptation will be in every shop and petrol station, so why not get used to it at home?)
I think all those who say "aagh, I caved in and had one and felt disgusted at myself" ought to rejoice instead. It's the most marvellous psychological change in me to light a once blessed and beloved cigaratte and find it repulsive - because of what it is, not because of what it represents. Realising that is, I think, an absolutely essential part of the process, and one without which I'd always be wondering.
So I'm not going to go weeping and wailing back to day one again. I used to think I liked the taste and sensation. Now it's not a part of routine and habit, I actually understand what those around me meant by "disgusting habit" when all I could see was pleasure.