Like you Jim Lad, I started smoking when I was about 13, and by the time I was 30 I was on around 40 to 50 a day.

I was well hooked, and had tried every which way to give up.

I would describe myself as a worried smoker, frequently worried about what it was doing to my health. The more I worried, the more I smoked......the more I smoked the more I worried and so on. Illogical? Yes, but then I guess that's addiction for you.

People who tell me it's not addictive, I say to them "Next time you're at a wedding you try and make it out of the church before the smokers."

If I didn't have my last cigarette of the day, I would go through my pockets looking for dog ends (for you americans, those are cigarette butts)and if I couldn't find any, I'd be out on the streets looking for a cigarette machine. - Yes in those days, there were cigarette machines in the street and nobody rifled them, my how times have changed.

I'm not a religeous person, but if I had a pain in my chest it was a case of "If it's not cancer God, I promise I'll give up tomorrow."

When I did finally manage to give up, it was absolute hell. As a substitute I sucked menthol&eucalyptus sweets to the point where my mouth was full of ulcers. Then, I went on the Rinstead pastilles, well exceeding the recommended dosage.

In the end, I kicked it for good, that was 30 years ago.

What stopped me starting again? The thought that I never, never, wanted to go through that hell again.