My Dad, born in 1919, started smoking at 12 years old, was totally addicted and could not stop.
He died at 57 of a pulmonary embolism.
Far too young.No one else in my family smoked.
So when I listened to a programme on Radio 4 this week called Tobacco and Me, it got me thinking.
I went to college at 17,and everyone smoked, so being an idiot I tried it too.
Hated it ,felt sick and dizzy so instead of rejecting it I carried on until it became a habit.
The thing that stopped me smoking was that one night about 9.30pm, in the middle of winter I realised I was running out of cigarettes.
The nearest little shop was about half a mile away.
It was snowing, but I set off.Got to the shop slipping and sliding, bought them and set off back home.
On the way back I slipped sprained my ankle and fell and sat on the fags as I went down, crushing them.
I sat in the snow laughing and crying.
That stopped me, and I never smoked another one 🤣.