My First Cigarette

Having been an extremely sporty child, smoking was not something that I ever thought I would be involved with and there was nothing that I hated more than my dad having to open the car window to have a cigarette which consequently made the back of the car freezing cold, an issue that anyone with smoking parents could relate to.

Now however I find myself often in situations where my dad and I will practically run through an airport in order to satisfy the little nicotine hit that we both crave. Sadly this can often be said for something as short as a two hour flight, so how on earth has it got to this? Most worryingly, as smoking laws tighten I do tend to find myself asking the question of what if smoking is to be made illegal; inevitably I only think that I will find myself once again drinking a cup of tea courtesy of her majesty the queen as trying to quit seems like a completely unachievable objective.

My first cigarette must have been when I was around 13 years old, my 10 year old brother and best friend had taken a cigarette out of my dads pack and took it into the back garden where we all tried it. Personally, I felt it tasted exactly as I expected but was nothing that I would want to do on a full- or part-time basis and so I left it for another couple of years.

It was at boarding school when I was around 15 years old that I then started to indulge on a regular basis, one reason was out of boredom as I was at a small boarding school in the middle of the Cambridgeshire countryside and with GCSE’s being far too easy I was often left with little or no work to do in the evenings, so would spend a lot of time sitting in fields with friends. This was also back in the day when the smoking age limit was 16 and the old school paper shop across the road would take National Insurance cards as a form of ID (NI cards for those like myself that lost it within 6 months of receiving have no photographic ID so as you can imagine it was extremely easy to borrow someone elses to go and buy 12.5g of backy, small green rizlas and filter tips all for the grand total of 50p less than a 10 pack of Mayfair’s would cost you at today’s prices).

As I like to think that I’m a vaguely intelligent person, I did consult one of the sixth formers in my house who had been smoking for years as to whether it was a good idea to continue or to quit whilst ahead and before the addiction had kicked in. Still to this day I remember his response. Thank you so much Rob Miller for the advice that you gave me, I cannot remember exactly what was said but do remember it was vaguely along the lines of “Smoking’s great, I’ve never looked back on it, definitely don’t quit…” so upon that advice I didn’t and it was almost as if from then I had decided that I was a full time smoker.

Well, six years and thousands of pounds later I am rather torn, perhaps I would have been better off consulting my mother, as my bank account would certainly be healthier, although that is debatable as had I not spent the money on fags I would probably just have twice as much rubbish that currently litters my bedroom, but my teeth would certainly be whiter. I don’t know whether it was the peer pressure or the enjoyment that I got from feeding this little addiction, however I do know that I genuinely love smoking, there’s nothing better than having a cup of coffee and a cigarette in the morning or clutching a cold pint of lager in one hand with a fag in the other. Although what I also know is that I would probably not have been as honest as Rob had some youngster inquired about my smoking habit and whether they too should consciously become a seasoned addict. I would certainly have lied, as unfortunately smoking is one of the few things that you cannot back out of in my opinion, and there are certainly days towards the end of each month when I wish that I wasn’t spending circa £35 per week on these little cancer sticks.