My parents both smoked, heavily, day and night, so we grew up in a fug of second-hand smoke. Of course, the day I found an unlit cigarette under Ma's bed, I realised I was the luckiest person on earth. Grabbing Ian after supper that very night, I rushed outside behind my bedroom window to 'light up', using a box of matches from the kitchen drawer. What a 'rush' I felt, so grown-up and sophisticated. Of course I never dreamed that Ma was watching me through a slit in the venetian blinds in my bedroom. 'Harry' she shouted, running out of the back door towards us. Hastily, very hastily, I put the cigarette out with my bare foot, thinking 'help!!!' Dragging me inside where Dad had a hidden stash of huge 'phallic' cigars, they decided to 'teach me a lesson'. When he handed me this monstrosity,I started off thinking 'oh this should be fun' but gradually got greener and greener at the gills with each puff I took. I remember her words' if you wanna smoke, I'll show you how to smoke'. Thanks Ma, you certainly did. As soon as I turned 18 and left home, I bought my first packet and didn't stop for 20 years.
