Putting down the packet David quits smoking for Stoptober

Let me start off by saying that I was never going to be nominated for a sainthood, even though ‘Saint Dave' does have a lovely ring to it.

For the thousands of Kiwis who're taking part in Stoptober, it is now Day 16.

For some it may have been a breeze; for others a mind boggling struggle, but at the end of the day if you haven't puckered up and sucked on a filter butt then you're winning e hoa ma – go you bloody good thing you.

But it would be fraudulent of me to write that I haven't had a cigarette, because I have.

I've slipped a couple of times and if I were to write those words I screamed at myself as I fagged away all my good work, I would be fired on the spot my employers and three more pages would also need to be added to the Oxford Dictionary.

The first time I slipped was after a measly three days. Three days. Making it worse, when I lit the bloody thing up all I got was two distinct tastes: soap (yes, soap – why? No idea) and abject failure.

The second time I slipped up – and this one was a doozy – was all because of my birthday.

‘Happy birthday to me, sucking back on nicotine, feeling like a bloody junky, you're a dumb f%^$ David T.'

Of all the days, my birthday was the most deceptive. Because I thought I'd done so well, I thought I could reward myself. ‘Idiocy' is knowing that a certain action will have a negative consequence, and then doing it anyway.

Following these experiences I have given myself a couple of good uppercuts because I HATE failing. In every other aspect of my life I'll do everything within my power not to fail, so when it came to lighting up, why did the fear of failure not even creep into my mind?

And that's the thing – it's my mind, or more to the point, the state of my mind after 20 years of nicotine tearing it all to pieces with its sharp smoky claws.

But it must be said, I am responsible for my actions – I chose to fail. A choice made out of momentary weakness and lack of faith in myself.

Thankfully, I've since managed to make it longer than three days and for more than a week have been smokefree. I've got this weird feeling at the moment which I can't quite put my finger on.

I have more energy and even manage to drag my portly backside outside for walks after work. I've found waking up in the morning a lot easier (this night owl hates catching worms). My breath doesn't knock-out small children and my lust for chilli is reignited because I can taste my food.

Had a wonderful moment on Monday when I took my wallet out, peeked inside and discovered these magical pieces of paper which the non-smoking-natives call ‘mon-ey'.

Their mystical sages inform me that this ‘mon-ey' can be exchanged for ‘goods and services', whatever they may be, or used at a later date which they call ‘sa-ving'. Such remarkable creatures.

In my head I feel a lot happier too. When a craving hits but I don't succumb I get that weird feeling, I mentioned earlier.

Y'know what I mean? That what-cha-mah call it feeling… oh yeah, that's the bugger… I get a feeling called ‘pride'.