Tuesday, 17 July 2007

Quitters who can't be arsed

My boss emailed all the pariahs to say that unless people actually turned up, the Friday sessions, they’d be cancelled. Apparently, while I was smoking myself into an ecstatic reverie at Latitude, only one person bothered to seek support from Our Lady of Quitting, Carmen.

“It could have been just a bad week with people on leave,” he said optimistically, probably thinking the same thing as me: a load of guilty people closeted away with a lighter and 20 Bensons. Sad.

Anyway, I’m back on the support sessions now I don’t have rehearsals or overwhelming cider abuse to use as an excuse. I feel a bit apprehensive actually. Taking a quitting class feels a bit like doing a small course at university and I don’t want to let the teacher down. I’d rather get a gold star and a lollipop than a sigh of supportive disappointment. Then again, maybe Carmen’s dishing out the Chupa Chups on the sly. Sweet.

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