It's now been 26 days since I had my last cigarette. But some days I could murder one.
Then I remember I’ve no way of getting to the nearest shop for a packet so there’s no point in making a fuss about it.
I’ll keep my eyes on the prize of winning two new hips and an escape from being trapped in my house.
But I have a new and ferocious craving for sweet things.
Well, it’s newish. News that my favourite boxes of chocolatey biscuits from Marks & Spencer have gone up from £7 for two to £5 per box did not help my mood.
Receiving Fry’s chocolate bars from reader Cathy Murphy, from Porthcawl, cheered me up a treat.
And although I will always keep your beautifully decorated envelope Cathy I have to admit the chocolate didn’t last long.
I asked my daughter-in-law Kim to buy me four cream cakes from Asda, thinking I’d have two and give the others to her and my eldest son Jonathan.
The box had a doughnut, eclair, scone and vanilla slice. They weren’t really big enough to share. So I thought, “sod it”.
I love the bones of my family, but clearly not enough to give them my cakes.
Jonathan pops round every day for a chat and says he’s proud of me for giving up the fags, and especially for not being naggy with it.
I haven’t even hurled anything out into the back garden in a temper, well, not since the two tins of corned beef I couldn’t open a while back.
They’re out there somewhere.
Anyway, Jonathan knows how I long to be out and about again so he asked if I’d consider going private for my hip surgery.
The answer is a very strong and very definite no.
Private health is against my principles because it creates hospitals for the rich and hospitals for the poor.
When Welshman Nye Bevan created the NHS in 1948 it set out to treat everyone as equals.
Yet now if you have £18,000 to spend you can have new hips and if not, nothing can be done and you’ll
have to wait.
I’d rather wait than fund a two-tier system I don’t believe in.
This week my really good friend lay for 20 hours on a trolley in hospital because beds and staff are so short.
She, along with everyone else I know, was full of praise for the nurses.
It’s not their fault the whole system has gone to pot.
So let’s do what we can to support our nurses and let us hope the NHS returns to Nye Bevan’s great vision.
I wheel not go back to this
A few people have asked if I’d give my wheelchair another go.
When I tried it, I got motion sickness as everything whizzed by me so quickly.
Perhaps worse than that, it made me feel the chance of walking again had ended.
And the truth is I’m just not ready for that.
So the answer’s no and that’s the end of it.
A Harry hair tong needed
I’m a bit behind the times when it comes to any kind of tech or gadgetry.
So I was really disappointed to learn that these fancy new hair wands are just new-fangled heated tongs, not magic wands like Harry Potter’s which you can wave at your hair to create instant bounce and body.
Gutted but proud of boys
I’m gutted Wales are out of the World Cup.
As much as I wanted them to win, I was realistic.
I’ve no time for people who get chopsy about footballers, saying they should’ve done this and should’ve passed that.
I want to say: “You put on a pair of shorts and let’s see how well you do out there.”
As sad as I am about Wales being knocked out, I am really proud we qualified for the tournament.
I hope England do well.
But as a born and bred Welsh woman, who cries at the first note of our national anthem, I can’t support Gareth Southgate’s team.
Rockin’ all over the World Cup
FaceTime is a godsend for people with next to no mobility like me and families who live apart.
A good old chat and seeing the faces I love can make me feel I’m in the same room as them.
But nothing replaces the fabulous feeling of a big cuddle.
I’d just got comfortable on the sofa when I heard hammering at the door, and I’d wanted to pretend I wasn’t in.
Then came knocking on the window and thought someone was in trouble.
It was our Rob, swinging by on his way to Wrexham’s football ground where he was hosting a party night for BBC One Wales before our World Cup matches.
“I’ve just come for a hug,” he said. We wrapped our arms around each other and I didn’t want to let go. But we’re never slushy for long.
Rob had his hair tied back in a pony tail, so I said: “Who do you think you are with that hair? Francis Rossi?”
Unlike the Status Quo man our Rob should definitely leave his hair Down Down.
Jill has grit but Matt’s a..shocker
I’m still laughing at the cyclone trial in I’m a Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here a week later.
Watching the contestants slip in torrents of water while balls bounced off their heads had me and my friend Beryl in hysterics.
We kept imagining ourselves trying to do it, with our creaky hips and knees. I reckon I would have either drowned or hyperventilated from laughter.
Jill Scott is such a worthy winner. The Lioness was a perfect example of grit and grace, bravely tackling every trial, never whingeing or tittle-tattling in camp.
I tried giving Matt Hancock the benefit of the doubt.
But I failed...
