Five days off the fags, and I have to say among the worst of my life so far. Not the very worst, obvs, but right up there. It's like nicotine acts as a bung, keeping a whole range of hideousness locked up inside, where it belongs and then, wham, after a couple of smoke-free days my inner cuntishness is released and off I go. Not helped much by Bloke, who as always goes into freeze-mode when I'm not well. If I'm doing good, he's great, but the moment I start to falter he panics and becomes incapable of anything, except looking at me as if I'm exhibit A, the aged lunatic.