I adore cuddling and kisses. No, more than just adore – when it comes to these little signs of affection, I’m no more than a helpless addict.
Which means that I have suffered brutal withdrawal symptoms since the lovely Snapdragon’s operation earlier this year.
At first she obviously couldn’t hug and kiss me – it’s just one of those nasty side-effects if you suffer a broken neck. Over the last months her condition has improved slowly, but surely, but the cuddling didn’t return.
I enquired carefully – it’s not a topic which you tackle without the utmost care if you happen to be married to a warrior such as Snapdragon.
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At first she blamed the operation, but then she came out with the whole story: “I don’t know if you have noticed, but I have almost stopped smoking entirely. Cigarette smoking is bad for my bone density and I have to quit, which I find extremely hard.
“Thanks to vaping and nicotine patches, I am down to one smoke in the morning and one before bed-time. Food suddenly taste much better and I can smell so much better… but the downside is that I can’t miss the nasty smell of cigarette smoke. And when I kiss you, you taste like an overflowing ashtray.”
I stopped smoking immediately. I bought a box full of vapes and I haven’t touched a cigarette for two days. Which is hell.
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In the early hours of this morning she moved tightly against me. I put my arm around her and buried my face in her hair. Her hair smelled like conditioner and fresh sea air. I smelled her hair and held her tight until I had to get up to make Egg’s sandwich for school.
“I had a great dream this morning,” I told her when we sat outside with our vapes and a cup of coffee after I dropped Egg off at school. “I dreamed you shifted your battered old body into my arms and I could smell your hair.”
“Funny you should mention it,” Snapdragon said. “I also had a pleasant little dream. I dreamed we spooned and you didn’t smell like cigarette smoke at all. I could smell deodorant and your slightly musky body scent.”
Later, when she didn’t look, I dropped my remaining half packet of ciggies in the dustbin. No cigarette will touch my lips again. I see the internet predicts a cold evening…
