"We Stood Outside Dad's Wake, Both Vaping. My Little Brother Said: First One to Pack It In Gets the Season Ticket."
Dean and Craig quit cigarettes for their dad. Then they watched him go anyway. This is the story of a bet, two wooden sticks, and the anniversary they spent stood outside the same pub.
Me and our Craig are three years apart, and we've done everything together. Same school, same football team, same first cigarette behind the Co-op when I was fourteen and he was eleven. He's never let me forget I gave it him.
Our dad, Ray, worked on the docks for thirty-one years. Rollies, from when he was a lad. He used to say they kept him warm.
When Craig's first was born, we both stopped. Proper, both at once. Switched to vapes because that's what everyone was doing, and honestly, we were dead proud of ourselves. Dad never managed it. He'd say, "You two are doing what I couldn't," and you could tell he meant it.
The wake
Dad died in March last year. COPD. The last couple of years he couldn't get up the stairs, couldn't walk to the end of the road without stopping. He was sixty-eight.
After the funeral we had the do at his local. About half eight, me and Craig went outside for some air, and we were both stood there, vapes out, puffing away. Not saying anything.
Then Craig started laughing. Not happy laughing. The other sort.
"Look at us," he said. "We quit smoking for him. And we're stood outside his wake sucking on these."
I didn't have an answer. We'd both been on them six, seven years. I was on mine more than I ever smoked. So was he. We'd just never said it out loud.
Then he said, "Right. First one to pack it in for good gets the season ticket. Loser pays."
We shook on it. Outside our dad's wake. He'd have loved that.
Round one (we both lost)
I tried cold turkey. Lasted till Wednesday.
Craig tried patches. Said they did nothing for his hands: "I'm driving to work with my hand going to the cup holder every two minutes, Dean. There's nothing there."
We tried 0mg. On it just as much. We tried "only outside". Lasted a day.
By the summer we'd stopped talking about the bet. It was embarrassing.
Round two
It was my wife, Sharon, who found HÜM. She showed me on her phone: a little wooden stick, no nicotine, no vapour, no battery. "It's for the habit," she said. "Your hand. Not the nicotine."
I thought, that's exactly what Craig said in the car.
There was a deal to get a second one for £24.99, so I bought two. Posted one to Craig with a note: Round two. Season ticket's still on.
What it's actually like
I'll be straight with you, because I wish someone had been with me.
It's not a vape. There's no cloud and no hit. You hold it, draw on it, and get cool, lightly flavoured air. I went for mint, Craig for coffee. The first week the flavour's faint, and I thought, is this it? Sharon said give it a week, your taste'll come back. She was right.
What it does do is give your hand somewhere to go. And that, it turns out, was the whole thing for both of us.
We started texting each other every night.
Day 4. You?
Day 4. Nearly went at the petrol station.
Same. Had the stick in my hand instead. Felt daft. Worked.
Craig had a wobble on a stag do in Leeds, day 11. Texted me from outside a bar just before midnight: "Ring me." I just talked rubbish at him for twenty minutes till the urge went. He had the stick in his hand the whole time. Next morning: "Cheers for last night. Day 12."
The anniversary
On the anniversary of Dad's funeral, we went back to his local. Stood outside the same door, same time, half eight.
No vapes. Just two wooden sticks.
Craig looked at his, looked at me, and started laughing again. The good sort this time.
"He'd have taken the piss out of these something rotten," he said.
He would. And then he'd have been dead proud of us.
So who won the bet?
We're still arguing about it. I say I was first. He says I had a puff of Sharon's sister's vape at a christening, which doesn't count, and he knows it doesn't count.
We've agreed to go halves on the season ticket. Dad would've called us both soft.
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THIS IS AN ADVERTISEMENT. Dean and Craig's story is a dramatisation based on real customer experiences; names, places and photos are illustrative. Reviews marked "Verified Trustpilot review" are real HÜM customer reviews, reproduced as written. Results vary. HÜM contains no nicotine and is not a medical device. For medical concerns, consult your healthcare provider.