New Year, new you…

Not everything we desire is truly desirable.

Many things we crave are unhealthy for us, which gives rise to resolutions, especially at the dawn of a New Year. As we speak, people are taking to the roads in a bid to remove excess fat and signing up to gyms and weight loss programmes.

“The road to hell,” they say, “is paved with good intentions,” but the road to good intention is usually paved with hell. It can be so difficult to let go of that which is not good for us.

I recall the campaigns in the 1970s to encourage folk to stub out the dreaded weed. It wasn’t long before that smoking was portrayed as tough, glamorous and indeed sexy. John Wayne and Clint Eastwood were men’s men who swaggered through a good film drawing on a cigar or cigarette, while smoking enhanced screen siren Ava Gardner’s allure. John Lennon appeared on the front of the ‘Imagine’ album, cigarette in hand behind a puff of smoke, while Bob Dylan’s image was complete with a cigarette and guitar. Sports, including snooker, embraced smoking, with competitions sponsored by Embassy and there were ashtrays at the tables for Hurricane Higgins, Terry Griffiths and other stars of the green baize.

Smoking was attractive and everyone was doing it in the pubs and clubs, cafés and theatres, homes and cars, whether there were children in the back seat or nae.

Then smoking fell out of favour. Like the polar bear, the ground beneath smokers began to shrink. We’re still talking 1970s when TV campaigns highlighted the dangers of nicotine and work places set designated smoking areas. But it was too big an ask for many people to stub it out, and instead they headed for the ‘weaker’ brands such as Silk Cut. The anti-smoking lobby countered that ‘switching brands is not the answer – it is like jumping off the 20th floor of a building rather than the 30th’.

The depiction of smoking being attractive was challenged. In another TV advert, a chap suggested that a female was beautiful, however as a cigarette came into view, his mate replied, “No, she smells like an old ashtray.”

By 1972, all of 12 summers, I was a-puffing. The shop near Dungannon Academy sold single cigarettes for one and a half pence each; Yip! To children!

And there were plenty of takers. The first inhale made me sick and dizzy as my body screamed, “What are you doing?” while the ego whispered, “Now you are a man, my son.”

Nicotine addiction was soon established as we ran wild through the halls of the Gap, Clubland, Letterkenny and the bouncing floor in Bundoran as Horslips pounded out ‘Dearg Doom’ while the packet of Embassy Regal looked out from the top pocket of the Wrangler jacket.

However, 20 years later it didn’t feel like freedom; on the rollies (in a bid to cut expenses) first thing in the morning, last thing at night already with the dreaded ‘smoker’s cough’. By then smoking was barely a pleasure, rather a necessity to take away the pain of wanting it. I recall a dearly departed, his face the colour of ash, as I pondered whether he was sucking the life out of the cigarette or the cigarette was sucking the life out of him.

There is the story of the man on death row who was refused a last cigarette before he went to the electric chair, as it was a smoke-free facility. The unsympathetic warden sneered, “Anyway, they’re bad for you.”

Quitting fags is not easy. Hilarious movie, ‘Cold Turkey’ (1971), brilliantly captured the craving and struggle to let go of smoking. ‘Cold Turkey’ refers to the abrupt cessation of a substance dependence and the resulting unpleasant experience, as opposed to gradually easing the process. A bit like the aftermath of Christmas Day and those cold turkey sandwiches!

A satirical comedy, starring Dick Van Dyke among others, the premise being Valiant Tobacco Company challenged any town or city to go ‘cold turkey’ off cigarettes for 30 days with a whopping $25million prize as incentive. The Valiant company saw the initiative as worldwide free publicity and praise as a humanitarian gesture, sure that no town in America would ever be able to claim the prize.

The Reverend Clayton Brooks (Van Dyke), a kindly but fearsome minister of the local church, takes up the challenge and the result was mayhem as all the citizens signed up. They were metaphorically climbing the walls. They fought, had all manner of cravings – including a housewife who compulsively ate gerkin sandwiches – and in one scene a poodle flies though the air after being booted Niall Morgan style in frustration by a nicotine addict in withdrawal. As 30 days approached, Valiant dropped cigarettes onto the streets from helicopters in a bid to entice someone to smoke.

All’s well that ends well. I braced myself on the eve of 1993 and lasted all of 13 days. Four weeks later, I went again and all things being equal, next month will be 29 years free from cigarettes.

The moral of the story: Whatever your resolution; alcohol, tobacco, junk food, fitness… don’t lose heart if you fall.

Be gentle with yourself and resume again as soon as possible without fuss.

Happy New Year.