When I quit smoking last autumn, I promised myself a last smoke in June. See at the end of this month, it's the end of indoor smoking in England. I thought I'd have about a six week old baby and that I would be pretty much fighting fit again after my lovely tranquil home birth. Not so much. I thought I could sneak off to the pub - swish down a cheeky half and smoke one lovely, last Marlboro Red in salute to the end of public smoking, as we knew it, in England.
I want that last smoke.
But I'm still feeling under the weather. I'm nearly as bad as I was in the days after my release from the hospital. Though better than I was at the weekend. I managed to walk to the drugstore today - accompanied by the Vol-in-Law. And you know, the drugstore is just about the same distance as to my local pub.
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