Day 4 sans cigarettes, I reported myself to be a calm and general all round pleasant citizen of the community. I spoke too soon. Nicotine has a score to settle with me, and this time it’s fighting dirty.

It got wind of my game plan, and never a good sport or one to lose, it changed tactics. It decided to ease me in slowly and lull me into a false sense of security. Then, just when I thought I was free, it started to put the pressure on. It’s clever, I’ll give it that, waiting until I’ve worn out my willpower and all the reasons I wanted to quit don’t seem so pertinent, but nicotine you’ve picked the wrong girl to mess with.

So now, as I sit surrounded by the serenity of burning lavender oil, and sipping my chamomile tea in lieu of a Peter Stuyvesant, I remind myself how much money I am saving by no longer smoking a packet a day. I’m dreaming of the fabulous new shoes I could buy instead, and the grip nicotine has around me starts to release itself. A new pair of peep toe heels to swan about the city; some lovely flats to meander down Chapel St or a fabulous pair of boots, just because I can.

Take that nicotine – yes, I choose Monolo Blahnik!