Smoke Stop

Not my forte

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 10:24:00 GMT

Let's just face it, I will one day be a non-smoker for good - when I'm dead!

In the meantime, I'll have to contend with the fact that I'm a permanently LAPSED non-smoker.

Willpower clearly isn't my forte...

Day 2

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 13:05:00 GMT

Life can be miserable at times - without cigarettes!

Quit Day II

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 09:59:00 GMT

I haven't got a chest infection, it transpires. After a thorough examination, I have been advised the source of my pain is most likely a pulled muscle.

The doctor, who took my temperature and even checked my blood pressure, listened to my chest and declared it to be "clear".

However, I have been inspired to stop smoking - again.

I'm sporting a nicotine patch and am using a fully-loaded inhalator like there's no tomorrow.

Mr D'Arcy!

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 12:53:00 GMT

ALL the signs are there - runny nose, aching back and fatigue. I've got a chest infection. I'm certain.

It was a bad omen when I spotted my GP as I was queuing up to pay for a Sunday paper and buy 20 Mayfair at the same time.

I gestured for him to go first, because I didn't want him to see me make the purchase. It was one of those rare days when I faced the world 'bare', with not a hint of make-up to colour my washed-out complexion. He looked at me in a dismissive way, as if fully aware of my failure.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have collected a pint of milk from my doorstep without two coats of foundation and lashings of mascara, at the very least. These days, age seems to have got the better of me. I slop about in jogging bottoms and slippers at weekends, and snatch my milk from its perch with such lightning speed that I convince myself it's highly unlikely anybody will notice I'm still wearing my dressing gown. However, my towelling robe is bright pink so, maybe, I'm kidding myself.

The encounter with my doctor took place at Uplyme Garage, a week ago.

I first noticed the signs of a chest infection last Wednesday. Having failed so spectacularly on the SmokeStop course, I decided not to push myself forward too quickly for a prescription of antibiotics. Instead, I decided to eat healthily, avoid alcohol and cut down my nicotine intake.

My valiant efforts are not working. Forget five-a-day, I'm eating fruit and veg till it comes out of my ears!

Last Friday night was hard work. My house was full, on the account that my daughter had invited two friends to sleep over (a third friend went home early, when he realised he was the only male!), and I felt dreadful. I was coughing and my back was aching to such an extent that I was forced to take two Paracetamol tablets to ease the pain. I was struggling to get comfortable, but forced myself to stay awake for A Touch of Frost.

I had a good night's sleep and awoke, slightly later than usual, feeling not too bad.

However, after repatriating the guests to their respective families and having undertaken the weekly shop at Morrisons in Bridport, I was pretty much back to square one.

Saturday's Daily Mail didn't help. I was looking forward to an afternoon in front of the telly, watching Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. The free DVD was going to be the highlight of my day. Unfortunately, I had to hang fire and buy Part Two of the film (the conclusion) with yesterday's (Monday) Daily Mail!

What am I coming to?

I've lapsed back into a nicotine addict slob, with a chest infection, and what am I doing about it? Hoping it will all go away, that's what!

I'll end up, as usual, phoning the surgery and pleading for a same-day appointment.

Of all the unpopular Government initiatives NOT to be cast aside by me is the one that recommends local GP surgeries should be open weekends and evenings.

I know my body. I know my lifestyle. I know when I may need antibiotics.

It will be my own fault when the moment arrives, but arrive it will...

Monday night: I was first in the queue at Tesco in Honiton this morning - to ensure I get the concluding episodes of Pride and Prejudice. I'm just about to watch them, having typed up 12 stories from tonight's Honiton Town Council meeting. I'm seeing my doctor at 4.30pm, after deadline. While I'm there, I'll be pointing out the lump that has appeared on my face. It isn't a spot, I fear.

Chest infection

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 16:47:00 GMT

I've got an appointment at the doctor's tomorrow.

Only myself to blame, I know...

Heidi's little 'dot'

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 12:58:00 GMT

MY fellow 'quitter', Heidi, has made it.

Unlike me, she has breezed through the final stage of the SmokeStop course to almost being a non-smoker.

Yes, she's on the final hurdle - the dot-sized nicotine patch that is the last step in an addict's quest to become 'free'.

When she showed it to me, my eyes almost popped out of my head.

The patch is the same size as a corn plaster.

It took me back to the time when I actually had a 'corn'. It was so painful, I was certain only surgery could cure me of the agony.

When I was presented with a tiny, circular plaster, I could have cried.

"How is this going to help?" my inner-self screamed.

By God, I soon found out my questioning was ill-placed. The little plaster was a miracle worker. It drew out a big lump of hard skin and I've never looked back.

Maybe, the last stage of becoming a non-smoker is similar.

I'll let you know - as soon as Heidi tells me!

Why hasn't Mugabe banned us from Zimbabwe?

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 12:53:00 GMT

I'M a tad disappointed that the Midweek Herald has not been banned from Zimbabwe.

Although the newspaper is only distributed in East Devon and West Dorset, it does cover the affairs of all those in the patch - including people who have been jailed by bogus president Robert Mugabe. His regime has banned the BBC.

The Reverend Merfyn Temple, a retired Methodist minister from Honiton, was imprisoned for speaking out about Mugabe's tyranny in 2005. At the time, Mr Temple was 86 years old.

Although now 89, he is one of the most informed and impassioned local voices on the present day crisis in Zimbabwe.

Mr Temple wants Mugabe to face trial at The Hague - for crimes against his own people.

We have reported Mr Temple's views. We are unable to access Mr Mugabe for a reply.

When I agonised over my page 2 report of Mr Temple's imprisonment, a colleague quipped: "The Midweek Herald will be banned from Zimbabwe."

Everyone in the newsroom laughed.

Suddenly, I recalled the recent case of a Worksop man (Entwistle) convicted of double murder in America. To ensure non-biased reporting, the small weekly newspaper in Worksop sent a reporter to America to cover the trial. Honest!

As I read the reporter's daily web reports and admired her video clips, including one of a fire engine racing up to the court steps following an alarm sound, I could see myself there. I could envisage the Midweek Herald crossing borders of such magnitude that maybe a camel should be placed on order.

Then it hit me - I haven't got a passport!

Any unlikely foreign assignment would have to go to my Axe Valley reporter, Angela Brennan, who could fly off at a moment's notice. (She's just raced into the newsroom after two days in Germany.)

I rarely venture past Cribbs Causeway, you see. I know practically every street across the West Country - in case I'm ever called upon to cover them as a reporter - but the wider world is unfamiliar territory. I holiday every year, with no complaints, at The Toorak Hotel in Torquay. Occasionally, I venture as far as The Rembrant in Weymouth. (I've got a cat, so I can't go too far.)

Up until last Thursday, I thought my lack of travel could be viewed as a form of ignorance. I'm feeling more upbeat about my preferred stomping grounds - thanks to a captain of industry.

I spent last Thursday afternoon with the managing director of a world-renowned factory. Although his business falls slightly outside the Midweek Herald's patch, he specifically approached me to talk about a matter dear to his heart.

During our meeting, he revealed he lives in Midweek territory. We picked over last week's paper together and, obviously, came across the page 2 story about Mr Temple's imprisonment.

I told the businessman about the office joke and admitted my great failing of not owning a passport.

He replied: "Do you know, I'm a bit like you? I rarely travel past Bristol."

How's that for solidarity? An international businessman preferring to stay 'local'!

The Midweek Herald doesn't venture much past the Devon border with Somerset.

What if the Herald WAS banned from Zimbabwe? What could I say in response?

Probably loads, because that's ME.

Meanwhile, it would be great to do a telephone interview with Mr Mugabe!

Not just a notion in the brain

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 08:14:00 GMT

MY second designated quit day came and went, with no effort on my part to stop smoking.

I blame the pressure. Yes, pressure from all those non-smokers who are constantly moaning at me. "But you did so well, Belinda. Don't give up now."

Easier said than done. You see, I still have vivid memories of those first few days after I quit. They weren't days I'm going to easily volunteer to repeat. The craving for a cigarette is, in my opinion, very similar to a hunger pang. It's not just a notion in the brain; it's a physical sensation in the upper gut, just below the chest. And it's horrible.

Meanwhile, I'm short of breath, stink of smoke and haven't got any money.

Designated Quit Day 3 is looming!

Watch this space.

Peak flow

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Thu, 22 May 2008 08:09:00 GMT

210 at 9am today, Thursday, May 22.

Preparing for Quit Day 2 - Saturday, May 24.

Only the lonely

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Sat, 17 May 2008 14:25:00 GMT

IT'S all doom and gloom - now that I've reverted, temporarily, to being a smoker.

An isolated spot in the company car park is my occasional 'home' as I puff away, in disgrace.

Yesterday (Friday) I was the only person employed by Archant South West to use the butt bin area, and it was a lonely experience.

During my nine weeks as a non-smoker, I saw people lighting up everywhere - or so it seemed. Now I'd lit up, I couldn't see anyone.

Dwelling on the pitfalls of being a smoker, I hit on the extreme. The clouds were black and the odd streak of lightning flashed across the sky.

I put my 'risk assessment' hat on. What if a lightning bolt struck the pitiful excuse for a tree next to the butt bin? What if I was standing under it at the time? Who would get the paper out? I'm never ill, but being frazzled is a different matter!

Even worse, what if I ever got so desperate for a cigarette that I dashed out into the car park, without looking, and got run over by a car?

Unlikely as they may sound, these events could actually happen. There's nothing so *** as life, they say.

I care more about the Midweek Herald than I do for my addiction to nicotine.

Time to put a patch back on!

But, as an addict WOULD say, I'll wait until next Wednesday before being 'good' again.

Day 65 - On the slippery slope

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Thu, 15 May 2008 11:54:00 GMT

IS it time to admit defeat?

For two days now I have been smoking. Yes, SMOKING!

Lurking in public places, I have been accosting complete strangers and asking them for a light. I don’t own a lighter anymore and feel to buy one would signal the true end of my quest to be a non-smoker.

I’ve got plenty of helpline numbers to ring, for support, but I’m an addict. Talking to someone isn’t going to achieve anything – except waste somebody’s time. If I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it.

You see, an addict doesn’t really need an excuse to exploit a weak moment. Bad news, good news and, in my case, no news, are all valid reasons to light up.

This time round, my lapse has been prompted by good news; of the kind that you could only ever dream of happening. It involves money and that’s all I’m going to say – except I haven’t won the lottery.

If this phase passes and I’m able to get back on track, I’ll let you know.

Yours, shamefully

Belinda Bennett

Lapsed non-smoker

An enchanted wood

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Tue, 13 May 2008 17:43:00 GMT

Day 64

IF ever there was an enchanted wood, it is at Offwell.

In the resplendent former grounds of Offwell House, near Honiton, is a treasure that, I feel, I can hardly convey in words. Likewise, pictures could only ever tell part of the story.

It was in these woods, spanning 48 acres, that I took shade from unrelenting rays of sun last Saturday.

Beneath a thick canopy of leathery leaves, my brain gorged on a fountain of information - about history, landscape management and wildlife.

Creating habitats for endangered species was high on the agenda, with the official opening of The Dormouse Trail. In a valley that time forgot lives not only the dormouse but also creatures that roamed the Earth long before dinosaurs.

I was visiting Offwell Woodland Education Centre on 'press day' and I was the only member of the Press to turn up.

If East Devon MP Hugo Swire could make the effort, bringing his family and the relative of a senior politician to such a remote place, why not representatives from other newspapers?

Those not present were the losers. I arrived at 11am and stayed until 3pm. I enjoyed a truly wonderful day, learning about the Victorians' fascination with rhododendron - and how their deviances are now wrecking the countryside. Extreme measures, such as burning, are the only ways to rekindle dying forests.

I also witnessed the tremendous work being carried out by volunteers as well as less than a handful of people who are employed, thanks to a Heritage Lottery Fund grant.

In two clearings, beautiful log cabins have been built. They are classrooms for a multitude of school children whose visits to the woodland are providing a real education in nature.

The man who built the cabins first visited Oregon, in America, to discover how logs can be perfectly slotted together, to avoid drafts.

In the blazing heat of an early summer's day, I was kept cool by a multitude of trees - some more than 100 feet tall. Beneath was mainly a grey kind of darkness - a mystical area.

Although we saw the leftovers of a dormouse's meal, a nut, we also saw areas where roe deer had lay. Judging from freshly laid footprints in a stiffening mud, the deer hadn't long departed our company.

Out of the corner of my eyes, in my Nicotine Dreams, I could almost see mystical creatures, such as the unicorn. It was THAT kind of place. Enchanting, to the extreme. And that's excluding the thousands of bluebells and other wild plants that left me spellbound.

Even more enchanting, to me, was the remains of a Victorian lake. Purposely created in the 1800s, it was huge and teeming with fish. Lily pads dotted the horizon as I made my way around its carefully kept boundaries. This, to me, was Heaven; the kind of place I want to idle away my final hours on Earth.

If smoking, or hereditary misfortune, should take me away from this life at an early age, this is the place that I want to remember - before the time that I enter St Paul's Church for my last visit.

The wood is not a place I would want to end up. It is too full of the past. Dragonflies, for example, have been there since before the Jurassic Age. Nineteen species have been identified, so far.

My place is in St Michael's Churchyard, Honiton, but I came close to a second Heaven in Offwell - just five fields away from my final resting place.

Keeping busy.

Day 59 – Going for a stroll in West Bay

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Thu, 08 May 2008 08:18:00 GMT

KEEPING busy is probably the most important part of my SmokeStop routine.

It’s getting easier. In the beginning, it was a struggle to find ways of keeping myself occupied outside of work. Previously, the highlight of my day was boiling a kettle and going to the corner shop. Now, I’m spreading my wings.

Keeping active is starting to come naturally. I’m not forcing myself to do things; I actually WANT to do them.

Glorious, glorious sunshine – and a wardrobe full of new summer clothes that I want to show off – got me out and about yesterday. After a good day at the office, I arrived home and told my daughter: “Get ready! We’re going to West Bay.”

With the landslip at Lyme Regis, apparently the largest recorded in 100 years, attracting the national press and hoards of sightseers, I decided to steer clear and go somewhere a bit quieter.

Quiet it certainly was in West Bay. I found a seafront parking space easily. In fact, the harbourside was quite deserted.

When I bought my daughter an ice cream, I asked the lady in the kiosk: “Have you been busy?”

“No,” she replied in a disappointed tone. “The sun came out when all the holoidaymakers had gone home.” She was hopeful she’d see more people like me – local people who’d decided to make the most of the sunshine, before it disappeared. She said she would be staying open late to catch people returning from work.

The time now is 9am on Thursday, May 8, and the sun is still shining in Honiton, although there’s a keen breeze. The weather forecast is for rain later today. Luckily, one of my two trips out of the office today is in about 10 minutes’ time – so I’ll be motoring into the countryside, to a village, while the weather is still great.

I haven’t used the inhalator for two days. I might have to later on. I’ve just realised, I forgot to put a fresh patch on before I left home. It’s not bothering me at the moment, though.

I feel fine. Not craving a cigarette. And my breathing is improving, once again.

Almost forgot! When I told my cousin that I'm wearing my patch as a badge of honour, he came up with a brilliant idea. In fact, it's so brilliant I don't know why nobody has done it. He said it's a shame patch manufacturers couldn't make them more like badges - so people would want to wear them. How about ones with the England flag for football fans and patriots? What about Page 3-style ones for men? And ones that are coloured to co-ordinate with ladies' outfits?

Day 55 - Amazing Yeovil

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Mon, 05 May 2008 20:38:00 GMT

DOES it really matter how many days I've committed myself, so far, to being a non-smoker? Does it matter that I've reached eight weeks, with just one weak spell? It, the spineless bit, lasted less than 48 hours.

Yes, for eight LONG weeks, I've been trying to be smoke-free. For a 30-a-day-er, I don't think I've done too bad.

I'm STILL smoke-free, all you doubters, even after such a long time.

And I'm glad I'm smoke-free!

That cough has finally started. I feel like a 19th Century orphan, living down in the sewers. I can even hear a Cockney accent in the distance.

I went to Yeovil at the weekend. It's a place that's changed, for the better, since I was there last. Middle Street upwards has improved, with a whole new range of shops - and, sideways, even a bowling alley and Blockbuster movie shop. It was a walkway to a remote park, opposite a pub called The Alex, when I lived there.

I was shocked - honest. Yeovil's great. And the best bit of all, after the fantastic shopping, was that the multi-storey, town centre parking cost just £2 for FOUR HOURS! Nowhere in the South West could beat that, I'm sure.

I could go on and on, but I'm too tired from all the walking in Yeovil to continue for much longer.

I bought True Match foundation by L'Oreal in Boots for £9.99. It's OK, even though my face looked like I'd rubbed gravy granules into the skin this morning. Not the miracle I was looking for. Instead, I looked like I had a dirty face.

I'm pleased with my latest trial skin care range from Boots - this time a deep down cleansing balm and skin peel lotion. It all feels lovely.

Mainly, I spent £75 on clothes in Peacocks and probably mega bucks everywhere else but, hey, I had the best of best times. The shops were BRILLIANT.

Only a cough and shortness of breath stopped me from exploring further.

I remain, truthfully, yours - Belinda Bennett, NON smoker!

Day 52- Not too bad

belinda.bennett@archant.co.uk — Fri, 02 May 2008 15:45:00 GMT

I'M back on track, without reverting to full-strength patches.

Although I puffed my way through a packet of 20 cigarettes on Tuesday, it hasn't meant going back to Day 1 and starting all over again.

I'm not getting any terrible cravings and, this time, I'm making greater use of the inhalator.

My breathing has been poor. I was struggling for breath as I walked up Queen's Walk, Lyme Regis, last night. I stopped four or five times to take in air. Previously, I had been able to walk up the hill without stopping.

So, in terms of lung function, those 20 cigarettes did me a lot of harm. They set me back a few weeks, I'm sure.

I'm off clothes shopping again tomorrow, so I'll be too busy to think about smoking - hopefully!