I suppose I stopped taking Champix about two weeks ago and as I was clearing out four or five days ago I threw the pills I had left into the bin. I’ve not smoked since 13 days in which must now mean I’ve not had a puff for more than 100 days. I did however light a cigarette and walk with it down the street the other day, as you do. I should probably explain…
I had some Gitanes left from last summer that I’d kept because I liked the dancing gypsy emblem (don’t call me racist, ‘gitane’ means gypsy in French, dickwad). Anyway, they were filterless and almost impossible to smoke so I didn’t at the time, though the packet remained with me perched on my desk on top of Brian Wilson’s autobiography.
Daniel Day-Lewis smoking a fag
So anyway, I ended up doing a focus group about smoking recently. It was very interesting because I was meant to be a smoker, and I figured that was something I could be reasonably well. It’s not that I was lying, I was just playing myself from three months ago, which I think is perfectly acceptable. Only if I was to play myself from three months ago then how come I didn’t smell of fags? This is the sort of attention to detail that’s won Daniel Day Lewis three Oscars you know. I bought a coffee, lit this cigarette (that was thankfully so dry that it burnt up unaided) and walked along Oxford Street remembering what it was like to hold a cigarette in my hand without taking a puff. It felt queer actually, and I didn’t miss it.
Smoking definitely feels like it’ll serve no purpose in glorious, impending adventures.