Smoking

It's now just about twenty four hours since I've had a fag.

I feel like screaming. I wish I could say I'm determined, but I'm not. If someone offered me one now, I'd take it and smoke it and enjoy it.

Ian's taking it all in his stride. He's acting quite normally, quite rationally, but his normality is winding me up. See how nicotine messes with your head! Everything he says and does seems to be some kind of tease, though, to be frank, it's not. It's me, not him. I'm the one in a mess.

How am I going to get through this? I certainly won't turn to food. I'm fat enough as it is. I'm not going to sit here scoffing high fat, high sugar, high calorie fodder, just to keep my mouth busy. Jesus, I can keep my mouth busy doing more interesting things - like talking! But there's no-one to talk to. Ian's watching some bizarre docu-soap on BBC2 called The Armstrongs. They are a ridiculous couple, in business, out to make a tit of themselves. I'd sit and watch it, but my patience is at an all time low - plus the fact my IBS is giving me hell. Must be the combination of giving up the fags and the stress that I'm causing myself in doing so. See, fags are healthy! I wouldn't have belly ache if I had a fag! It must be something to do with all the vitamins in them.

Oh, aren't smokers full of shit!? And do you non-smokers out there tire of the way we try to fool ourselves all the time?

Answers on a postcard please...

Incidentally, I saw Fantabulosa this morning. My brother recorded it on DVD for me, but our recorder doesn't like +RW DVDs so I had to watch it on my trusty iMac. Kenneth Williams also had IBS, though it seems in those days they called it a Spastic Colon. I always thought I was slightly spastic. Now, it seems, it's confirmed. You should see me running. Think about that one for a while.