time, hedge, addictions

Old timers.

As the hedge outside my window grows thicker I see less of the figures of passers by. Some I can recognise by their voices; others by their gait. Tourists by their slow manner of walking as they look about them; locals by their brisk more purposeful progress.

A conversation with a neighbour about giving up smoking. I know little from personal experience of that particular addiction. But I confess that I was at one time addicted to nibbling items from the fridge much as other people light-up to occupy nervous energy or take the place of restless endeavour. My solution was to eat  little and only at  fixed times and, most important, to savour what I was eating and approach it with a sort of reverence in order to derive the maximum pleasure from it. Consumption decreased as satisfaction increased. To  the smoker I say:  don't necessarily give  it up, but cut  it down and resolve to enjoy every cigarette. Never, above all, smoke without thinking about it.  I guarantee that your consumption will drop off. I am not sure that he agrees with me, and if  in fact he has succeeded in dropping the habit, I don't blame him.