Joseph O’Connor, author: “Having given up cigarettes, I’m now addicted to Nicorette chewing gum, so I’m going to try to give up that,” from The Irish Times’ review of “famous” people’s new year’s resolutions.

New year’s resolutions are the trickiest of resolutions, because the pressure is internalised – therefore breaking them often proves a moot point. If disappointing no one but themselves, only an individual with the strongest will power can resist the urge to cheat. But new year’s resolutions are cliched, we know this, and so 2009 is going to be my year to make “keepable” resolutions that affect my actions, my attitudes and my instinct for self-preservation which, in 2008, was almost non-existent and did not prevent me doing many things it should have.

But back to the present – I began a resolution of sorts early or, depending how you look at it, late. The photograph on the left may be a hint; my choice for quote of the day may be a stronger one.

I gave up smoking on Christmas eve, on a whim. I was shopping in Dublin city centre and I went to the pharmacy counter in Boots to pay for my shampoo; there is a shorter queue, as most punters don’t realise that paying for general items there is an option. While waiting at the counter (it was Christmas eve, after all, so expecting no queue at all would have been a bit remiss of me), I spied, at the back, displayed against the white plasterboard, the Nicorette display.

I have been smoking now, on and off (mostly on) for eight years; I started when I was younger, in an attempt to be older (the irony is not lost on me) and I continued when the smoking ban was put in force in an attempt to chat up men in the smoking area (sadly, often the best-looking lurk in the outdoors, beneath the usually faulty heaters in a cloud of tobacco smoke and whiskey). I started smoking in the day for something to do between meals; I smoked more because I enjoyed it, and it went particularly well with coffee. When I gave up caffeine, cigarettes replaced lattes; when I gave up smoking areas, it was a comfort on the walk home. I always had a reason to smoke, but a reason that never included the word “addiction” – ergo, Nicorette seemed an extreme solution for a simple problem.

And I have tried to give up, on countless occasions, for different reasons and, predictably, for different people. The longest I lasted was two months; the shortest non-smoking stint was a day or, probably, an hour. So Christmas eve, listening to Christmas carols and lugging heavy carrier bags from town to Rathmines, seemed as good a time as any to give in to the niggling voice in my head that told me that I was addicted, and that it was okay to admit that, and to stop saying “but I just like it” over and over again, a neverending mantra.

Since my first Nicorette, I can honestly say that not smoking has been easy. That’s not to say, however, that I don’t want to; I wake each morning yearning – more accurately, pining – for a cigarette. Before I go to bed in the evenings, I sigh and wistfully think back on the times when I would have my pre-bed cigarette (never in bed, I’d like to point out – that is sick and wrong). And then I chew a Nicorette, and the desire fades and is replaced  by a certain sense of revulsion and a tightening of the throat.

I have slipped up once; I smoked one half of a John Player light (a bad choice, I know) and put it out in a fountain (at least I’m honest). Alcohol was involved – but it has been involved since and, I swear, doc, I’m still clean.

So I’m starting again: smoke-free. Soon enough, I’m sure, chewing gum will begin to irritate my nearest and dearest and I’ll have to give that up too, but for now, Nic is my close friend and ally, a comforting shelter in the cold. People were always surprised that I was a smoker; maybe being a gum-chewer is an easier description to reconcile oneself to.