So here I am once more. (10 points to anyone who can tell me what song that line is the opening phrase to)
I've come to realise that these forums are the foundation upon which my attempt at quitting rests. Consequently a heartfelt thank-you to all those folks who have taken the time to post words of encouragement and support is in order. It means a lot to me.
Anyway, the important stuff. I'm still on the wagon. Didn't smoke between now and yesterday, and experienced no craves whatsoever.
I'd like to say this astounding turn of events came about as a direct result of my iron willpower, but the truth is a little less dramatic and a lot more believeable.
In short, I was sh*tfaced.
Honestly, even if you had wafted a lit ciggie under my nose whilst proclaiming that taking the slightest puff would ensure an eternity in paradise surrounded by 1000 nubile courtesans wearing only dental floss, with a concurrent 3 inch extension in the gentleman's department, I couldn't have smoked for toffee, on account of being totally unconscious.
This morning, whilst mentally reconstructing the crime scene, I have realised that during my epic DIY session yesterday (see Diary of a quitter - Day 23) every time I reached for another nail, I would have a crafty swig from a nearby schooner of Dr Smirnoff's patented thought remover that my evil wife bought me for my birthday.
Result - P*ssed Hodges, weaving around spare bedroom haphazardly gesticulating with sodding great big hammer in one hand, and sloshing vodka up the curtains with the other. Incidentally, the wardrobe looks like it defies the laws of physicis. I wouldn't be at all surprised to open the door and peek inside only to see lots of snow and a lamp-post.
At this point dear reader, I feel compelled to point out that I am not exactly a stalwart when it comes to handling my liquor. A pint or three I can do. I can even do a bottle of Pinot Grigio at Sunday lunch and maintain a reasonably coherent dialogue. Give me the merest hint of spirits though, and you had better make sure there's a mattress nearby.
However, the silver lining is that having given up the fags, I get a much better quality of hangover.
Onwards and upwards