I'm imagining a conversation with Allen Carr. It's the 1990's, I haven't experienced pregnancy yet. I'm in a pub with friends. It's my round, I go up to the bar holding Nico Teen aloft.
"Why do you smoke?" says a man standing there.
"Slow suicide!" I laugh, eyes bright.
"If you know that why do you do it?"
"Because I enjoy it!"
I can't imagine the rest having never met the man, but having read his non-lecturing style.
Had he said: "Have you thought of giving up?" I'd've said "No!"
Never has the fear of living and the desire to do so collided so spectacularly in my mind.
The suicidal thoughts that came with each eviction were out of my control.
In my late teens and twenties I wanted to die.
Not all the time but I certainly didn't care about my life.
Oh my son my life
(From Notebook - Tuesday 18th January)