I thought vaping was my pleasure but a book showed me it was a tyranny. With one leap, I was free | Isolde Walters

I had 20 nicotine obsessed years: first cigarettes and then the plastic alternative. I came to realise it wasn't a want: it was a need

I have been a nicotine fiend ever since I smoked my first cigarette at the age of 14, perched on some steps during my school lunch break. It tasted disgusting but I persevered and soon I was hooked. I must have looked like some kind of Dickensian urchin, trailing around north London in my school uniform puffing on a ciggie.

And boy, did I love to smoke. It was great fun for a while. I happily trooped into the pens outside nightclubs and pubs where the smokers were held. Smoking was a group activity back then. I swapped white-and-gold packets of Marlboro Lights for the more cost-efficient squishy green pouches of Golden Virginia tobacco. My best friend and I chain-smoked rollies until our flat reeked and the ashtray overflowed.