Skip this if you've read it before.
There's a reason I remember the introduction of the smoking ban in Ireland. I was there.
Ten years ago Sky News invited me to Dublin to take part in the Richard Littlejohn Show which was broadcast live from the famous Shelbourne Hotel on St Stephens Green on the eve of the ban.
If I remember, the ban was introduced at 6.00am on Saturday March 29, 2004, and the programme was going out at 7.00pm on Friday evening.
To give myself plenty of time I flew to Ireland on Thursday and stayed overnight with friends in Greystones, south of Dublin.
Sky had booked me a room at the Shelbourne for Friday so at noon I boarded a train at Greystones expecting to check in an hour or so later.
Instead I boarded a train going in the wrong direction.
After 15 minutes I realised what had happened. (The rolling hills of Wicklow and the absence of any housing were a bit of a clue.)
When the ticket inspector arrived I asked him where the first stop was. I think he said Wexford, which is 70 miles from Dublin.
"Not to worry," he added breezily, "I can ask the driver to drop you off before then."
And he did. A few miles down the line the train slowed to a halt and I was invited to jump off, with my two suitcases, in the middle of nowhere.
"See those houses?" the ticket inspector said, pointing to some buildings about a mile away. "You'll be able to get a bus back to Greystones from there."
The short version of the story is this:
I walked in the direction of the houses where I found a small town that was officially shut. (Remember half-day closing?)
I found a bus stop where I stood for, oh, 60 minutes waiting for a bus. In that time I saw perhaps one person and half a dozen cars.
Eventually a bus arrived and I did indeed get back to Greystones via several picturesque villages, and from there I caught a train (going in the right direction) to Pearse Station in Dublin.
Time was flying by and when I arrived it was almost six hours since I began my journey.
From Pearse Station I ran (still with my cases) from the station to the Shelbourne Hotel, a distance of about a mile.
I remember it vividly because I think it's the last time I ran anywhere. I have never breathed more heavily or sweated more profusely.
I checked in, showered, and with ten minutes to spare reported to a rather agitated Sky News producer.
The good news? There was no time to be nervous. I was just relieved to have got there on time.
The bad news? I was one of several people flown over by Sky and put up in one of Dublin's top hotels and on average we got 20 seconds each to make our point.
TV, eh?
The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur but the following morning the streets were full of English rugby supporters because England were playing Ireland that day.
There was a carnival atmosphere. It was bright and sunny and no-one seemed to mind standing outside to smoke. Then again, how many knew about the ban is debatable.
Of course it dominated the Irish media and what I remember most were the leading articles - the Irish Times in particular - revelling in the idea that Ireland was the centre of world attention, if only for one day.
It felt, to me at least, that the smoking ban had less to do with public health and more to do with putting Ireland on the map.
Now Irish politicians want the country to be the first nation in Europe to introduce plain packaging. I sense deja vu all over again.