Well that’s it my last fag – hopefully.
No flags, no bunting, no ceremony, a jogger jogged past, a little girl teetered past on roller-skates holding onto her Mum’s hand.
I smoked two, the second I smoked till the end dropped out onto the decking.
I hate them, remember that I hate them, they make me… well I made a list, but simply put I hate them and I can feel them slowly killing me.
Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life, I hope that it’s a long one.
I am an unknown artist, a paddling oceanographer, and a merciless romantic. Fans globally faint away over my innovative range of waistcoats, slippers and dressing gowns. I don't sweat. I have won second prize in a Blue Peter competition, play noisy pool yet I am reserved in defeat. Children and animals trust me.
I can catch two flies at once with unfailing accuracy. I can erect Ikea furniture in a day and still have time to repaint the entire hall in the evening. I know the precise position of every grocery item in Tesco. My dancing belies belief and explanation; I have perfect feet but rather disappointing ears. The laws of physics do not apply to me.
I jump, I skip, I weave, I frolic, and my bills are never paid on time. I have given confessional to bikers but am recognised as the devil by Mormons. I have many names.
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