I'm now undertaking a four-day rehab program for pack-a-day smokers, a.k.a. a stay in the country with my reformed-smoker smoking nazi father. I started out making excuses for disappearing outside but I felt bad so I said "by the way, I brought my cigarettes" and laughed nervously hoping I would appeal to his softer side. He shook his head and said "I don't approve" and sounded very serious about it. This morning he bought me some beautiful jewellery for my twenty-first birthday coming up in two weeks and the last thing I want to do is piss him off. Then he said I picked a good-weekend to quit and I sure did, except I snuck away five minutes ago pretending to follow the sheep down into the paddock. Woe is me.

Tomorrow we're going to see a movie and Sunday we're driving back down to Sydney.  ¶ 13:48