Clare's stop smoking diary

Week 2: My first day as a non-smoker

Can our heroine last 24-hours without a fag? Clare faces her demons in her local pub and learns something about hangovers

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I have a dirty secret: I usually have two cigarettes before I even start work, one on the way to the tube, and another on the way to work from the tube. It's my little routine, and I have been reluctant to let it go.

I left Allen Carr's clinic a sceptic, yet something is working. I left the house and thought about that first cigarette this morning. I thought 'I could go to the shop and just buy some' but then I thought 'why would I really, really want to do that?' And before I knew it, I was thinking about something else. I got to work and realised I hadn't even thought about the second one I usually have on the walk to the office.

The day went on, and although I have been thinking about cigarettes, its more the anticipation of thinking I will want one when I have lunch, pop out for a coffee or go outside to call my mum on my mobile.

But I find myself enjoying a smoke-free lunch, nipping out for short walks and coffee breaks in place of a cigarette break, and basking in the applause of my mother, sans cigarette. 'You've gone a WHOLE DAY? Wow, well done you!' (Aged 28, my mum still upholds positive parenting).

And, can I say this? So far, I am not finding it so hard. The last time I gave up I think I found it much harder, especially the first few days. But although I am being mildly annoyed by the odd nicotine niggle, each time I squash it I feel bolder and more confident that I will quit - for good!

Night on the tiles - fag-free?

My first test: a drunken night out down the local with my best friend Charli. Charli has also quit, and so when we meet we both look a bit nervous. I have been smoke-free for only two days - she for three. I think we are both worried that we were going to have a really bad night: we'll bore each other silly and conclude that our 10-year friendship cannot survive without the dreaded weed.

Previous nights such as these have always involved smoking. Smoking, smoking and more smoking. I regard nights in the Faltering Fullback - to Allen Carr's chagrin - as some of my top smoking memories of all time. How we devoured those little white sticks without a care in the world, filling ashtrays to bursting, blowing smoke all over each other in an orgy of nicotine, the sound of our clippers clickety-clicking into flame. Ahh, happy days.

We buy beer and exchange pleasantries. Then Charli announces that she 'wants a cigarette' then straight away says 'no I don't.' I know how she feels, it's that nicotine monster rearing its ugly head. But we squish and squash it with each gulp of Kronenburg and before we know it we are roaring with laughter like the fooligans we always were. But this time we are not smoking.

The happy flow of conversation, the banter, the confessions, the gossip, the 'this and that' which has always made evenings with Charli such fun, are unchanged. The only difference is that the ashtray remains clean. I stagger home smelling more brewery than ashtray, but with both my friendship and smoke-free lungs intact!

NB - note from the next morning: I discovered that alcohol still gives you a hangover even if you don't smoke, but without the gluey sore lungs, hacking cough and stinking hair and breath - it ain't half as bad!

Don't forget to come back next week to see how Clare is getting on! In the meantime why not visit the Stop Smoking Message Board?