The other thing that the Shell station sells is petrol. And as I left the office last night, it crossed my mind that I was probably low on fuel. I just hoped that I could get home without filling up; since I wouldn’t be working for the next couple of days, and wouldn’t need the bike, that would give me three clear days without smoking. I know from past quitting attempts that filling up without buying cigarettes is a significant milestone and I knew that I wouldn’t be ready to face it just yet.
As soon as I switched on the engine, on came that amber fuel light. I tried to convince myself that my feelings were mixed but in fact I was elated at the prospect of a fag on reaching home. And part of that euphoria was that I was blameless. Could I be blamed? We all knew what the score was, didn’t we? It was all upfront.
I never really made any attempt to fight it. It all seemed so natural. Perhaps the link seems tenuous. It might do, to someone free from such slavery. But I have bought my fags from that Shell station, on the way home, for years. I have never bought petrol without buying fags – they are just there, after all, just behind the guy in the red T-shirt and they’re bound to be required at some point either today or tomorrow (never later).
Now it’s the morning (well it’s just turned midday actually) and I’ve just put the remains in the bin. I smoked three. The good news is that none of them was what I would term an enjoyable cigarette. Again, perhaps the first drags of the first probably gave me some kind of relief but after that it was all about that master-servant thing that fags establish with you. You smoke because you can. They make you smoke because they can. They make sure you know who’s the boss. It is callous, ruthless gangsterism.
So now I’m faced with two days free. It has been raining since I came home last night. Still, I have my book to work on and tonight I go out with the beautiful – well let’s call her Maria – whom I met on an internet dating site, a normal internet dating site that is. She insists she just wants to be my friend, and even wants to help me find a girlfriend, which is very nice of her. I, on the other hand, want Maria in every way possible, though her innocence and conservatism, despite her strident progressive views on all the things that strident progressives have views on, will ultimately either prevent this or doom any resultant tryst to oblivion.
