Friday 13 November 2009

Edinburgh


I’ve travelled to some of the most wonderful cities in the world: Paris, Rome, Vienna, yet I still maintain that the most beautiful city you could ever visit is my home town Edinburgh. Despite being known as the least friendly city in Scotland (completely untrue!) part of what makes Edinburgh so amazing is its huge mix of vibrant, interesting people. It’s a very creative city, partly down to its hosting of the world’s biggest arts festival The Fringe each year, which means whilst walking around Edinburgh the eccentric locals are often distracting from the historic buildings. Take a walk up the cities Royal Mile (a mile long stretch between Holyrood Palace and The Castle) to spot Elaine, the world’s most pierced lady or in Spring walk across the Meadows and watch fire eaters prepare for Pagan festival The Beltane. The huge number of visitors that flood the city each year, some who stay for a week, others a life time means the city is extremely multi cultural- with everyone who stays leaving behind a small part of themselves in the atmosphere. However, it can be hard for newcomers to break away from the well beaten tourist track and see the real Edinburgh, still as breath taking but also grittier: a place where junkies reside next to politicians and graffiti masks ancient city walls.
Cheesy as it is the one thing I always recommend to visitors when they arrive is to spend their first day on a tour bus, though make sure they get a live guide rather than a recorded commentary on headphones. It’s the best way to get to know the complex architecture of the city and to get a real feel of the main streets and as the guides are often out of work actors from the city they provide first class entertainment with the funniest of facts.
On sunny days the city just shines, and one of the best places to enjoy a picnic lunch is Princes Street gardens, under the shadow of Edinburgh Castle. The Meadows is the more popular park for locals with free badminton courts and excellent cycle routes.
The Royal Mile is the mile long stretch between Holyrood Palace (where the Queen sleeps when she comes to stay) and Edinburgh Castle. It’s a real hub of activity and although completely over run with tourists no visit to Edinburgh would be complete without walking the mile. Start at the bottom, and if you’re a real history nut a tour of the Palace is worth the money as you can’t even get in to see the outside of the palace and its fairy tale turrets without paying. Next door is the Scottish parliament, an unusual and highly criticised building surrounded by Arthurs Seat, an ancient volcano well worth climbing if you have the time. On your walk up the mile, keep an eye out for Clarindas, a quaint tea shop named after Scottish poet Rabbie Burns’ girlfriend, a far better place to stop for coffee than the generic Starbucks up the road. You’ll then be hit by an onslaught of souvenir shops which are all run by the same family, so save time and only visit one- it’s the same things in each store! Walking up the hill you’ll come across famous buildings such as the Tron Kirk which is free to look around. Watch out for the heart on the ground outside, it’s considered lucky if you spit on it and unlucky if you walk over it (mainly as you get a load of gob on your shoes!) When you reach your final destination: The Castle, I’d recommend not paying the pricey admission fee. The views are the best thing about being there and you can see these without paying.
If you stop for lunch on the Royal Mile you’ll only find the same old food you could get in any British city, and all at horrific prices. It’s a trap I hate to see anyone to fall into, especially when there are so many great places to eat just minutes away.
The City Café is an Edinburgh institution, a great place to drink and eat both day and night. Its interior hasn’t changed in a decade so now has a real retro feel. Eating wise it is best for hangover breakfasts, as they offer a traditional one for meat eaters and a vegetarian option with both including ‘must try’ haggis. Or why not try some haggis in your baked potato? The Vegetarian Baked Potato Shop on Cockburn Street, stocks a huge range of fillings for their even huger potatoes.
Tapas style eating has recently become very popular in the city, and Barioja is the best place for traditional, tasty Spanish tapas. However, you can also enjoy this trend with a twist. Both Mother India and Chop! Chop! offer tapas style menus but with Indian and Chinese food respectively. Chop! Chop! though unassuming with its décor lets the food do all the talking with its range of amazing flavours. Favourites include the glass noodle salad and their range of dumplings.
Whilst wandering around the city, you may notice that Edinburgh is split into two parts: the old town and the new town. You can see this in the architecture and you can see it in the pub/club scene. Grungy yet hip bars crowd the old town populated mainly by the backpackers and bar workers of the city and cool, upmarket cocktail bars line the streets of the new town filled with rich students, office workers and well groomed hairdressers.
If you want to see the real Edinburgh at play I suggest heading to the dark and dingy, yet ever so friendly old town pubs and clubs. Be warned though, the majority of pubs stay open til one or three so most Scots begin their drinking around nine and carry on going til the wee hours. And stay well away from the clubs of the Cowgate which are funded mostly by the hundreds of stag and hen parties which flood the city.
I’d suggest beginning your night at the very bohemian Brass Monkey. Head through to the back room which contains a huge, velvet cushion lined bed with floating wooden tables and is lined ceiling to floor in vintage movie posters. The bar also functions as a theatre in the daytime showing hand selected classic films.
If you fancy something a bit stronger, there’s no better place to go than the secret polish vodka bar. So secret and known only by locals it doesn’t even have a name. To find it go to Cockburn Street and head up the alley way beside The Arcade Bar, a small staircase to your left will lead you to the tiny bar with cow hide seats and a turn table anyone can use. The bar sells only beer and a huge range of vodkas, including a 90% vodka which the bar maid strictly instructs you not to order (and be warned: tastes strongly of sperm).
Many tourists are highly recommended to go to Whistlebinkies, a folk music bar just off the Bridges however I’d suggest popping next door to its darker, more local populated twin: Nicol Edwards. Staying open til three Nicol Edwards gets really busy past one when the pubs around it close. A rabbits maze of corridors and bars, even I find new places inside it to visit. The most popular rooms are the downstairs room with its graffitied tartan walls and Edinburgh talent Acoustic Dave playing everything from classic folk songs to the Home and Away theme tune to the mass of dancing people below him. Upstairs is a bit quieter, with battered velvet chairs and Scottish battle murals to muse at.
Club wise the best old town destination for dancing is Cabaret Voltaire: a club built in ancient underground tunnels. It has a range of nights from Scotland’s most talented burlesque performance evenings to the finest drum n bass DJs. No matter what night you go on the club itself is something to be marvelled at, either head straight down to the basement for sweaty dancing within stone arches or for a quieter time go upstairs to the new speak easy. With videos showing what’s going on downstairs, large round glass tables and the ‘catwalk’ seating area at the back it’s the perfect place to chat before your night begins. Oh, and ladies check out the secret mirror toilets…
If you’re still awake and can foresee yourself staying up all night, why not make like a true Edinburger and hang around til 6 in the morning when the old man’s pubs open. The two most popular are The Scotsman and The Penny Black. Penny Blacks attracts everyone from posties beginning their shifts to ravers winding down their night. You never know what is going to happen!
Like drinking in Edinburgh, shopping is also divided into sections. There are three main shopping streets: Princes Street for main stream high street stores, George Street for designer and The Royal Mile for tatty tartan souvenirs. But for shopping that matches up to real Edinburgh style: eccentric, creative and original, it’s best to head to the shops hidden in the back streets. Cockburn Street, off the Royal Mile, is instantly recognisable with its packs of Goths lining the pavements. Look beyond them and you’ll find shops stocking the strangest but coolest clothes you’ll ever see. Build up enough courage to enter Whiplash Trash and be amazed by the fetish gear, or head next door to Cavanagh: a crowded antique shop. Down the road there’s Cookie, with cute dresses and Fabrick which stocks every t shirt under the sun.
For an artier shopping trip take a walk down Victoria Street, paying special attention to The Red Door gallery stocking a range of unusual and affordable prints and quirky jewellery. For unique gifts check out Demi John, who in store make a range of flavoured wines, vodkas and cooking oils which they decant into weird and wonderful bottles to put pride of place in your kitchen. Victoria Street leads conveniently into the Cowgate, which is any vintage shopper’s paradise with Armstrongs, where Kate Moss has been spotted scouring the musty rails for antique finds. There’s also a Barnardos which specialises in vintage clothing and you’re only a 5 minute walk away from Herman Brown which stocks only the finest in designer, vintage clothing.
Edinburgh draws visitors all year round, but becomes especially buzzing in August where the city plays host to the biggest arts festival in the world: The Edinburgh Festival. During this time Edinburgh’s population doubles and hundreds of new arts venues pop up all over the city. Each venue offers something for everyone be it comedy, theatre or dance and although there’s always something to see the really good shows sell out well in advance. If you choose to visit Edinburgh during August I’d recommend doing your research by checking out edinburghguide.com prior to your visit and purchasing The List magazine to read the reviews. Though don’t be a slave to reviewers and spend at least one day playing risk and going into to see something that would never have caught your eye before: I saw an acoustic gig with KT Tunstall before she got big on my ‘risk day’ one year.
Hopefully with my advice you’ll have managed to break away from a tartan filled, clichéd Edinburgh visit. But with 1.3 million international visitors coming to Edinburgh every year it’s impossible to go anywhere where they won’t be. On your visit you can only do what every Edinburgh local does, embrace it. Smile at the huge packs of Italian men blocking your way up the mile, correct the Spanish when they’re pronouncing ‘Tennents’ like ‘Guinness’ and if you’re really in need of a break hop on a train to Glasgow.

Heroin Daze: the story of a recreational heroin user

Watching Claire walk down the street you can’t help but envy her. A slim, attractive fifty year old she has a buzz about her, the type of person you instantly like. Wearing a soft pair of khaki trousers and a cashmere jumper Claire chooses to show off her creativity with carefully selected jewellery- a bracelet from India, a necklace from a Spanish market.
On her arm is an exquisite looking man, the type of silver fox that has only gotten better with age. His skin is delicately tanned in a way that suggests just recently he has benefitted the sun- despite the fact it’s been dreary in London for months. Unfortunately the wedding ring on his finger and the way he smiles at Claire tells you that he’s married, and happily so.
The perfect couple, you think, what a wonderful life they must lead.
And they do, having both made a joint decision not to have children, Claire and Robert spend their weekends, not in a crowded fast food chain like their friends, but at Michelin starred restaurants and browsing art galleries.
Money has never been a problem for the couple, both from wealthy families and doing well in their careers they live a relaxed life.
What you can’t see is that Claire and Robert have a secret. One so big that if discovered it could shatter their reputations forever. They are members of a hidden section of society- a group of people so small that very few are aware they exist. Along with other friends Claire and Robert relax, not with a glass of wine like most their age, but with heroin.
“There are probably about five of us,” Claire explains, “they tend to come round to my house and we get comfy, I’ll pop the kettle on, we’ll listen to some music, chat and be sociable whilst smoking some heroin.”
It’s a side of heroin use that is unimaginable for most- society tells us that as soon as anyone experiences the highs heroin offers you have made a pact with the devil – you’re doomed for a life of addiction.
Claire first smoked heroin in the sixties when the drug was associated with hedonism and romance rather than prostitution and death. Living on a house boat she became close with a crowd of hippies who introduced her to LSD and cannabis. It was through these friends that she met her first husband: an aspiring guitarist who copied his idols by injecting heroin. Although surrounded by an inspiring group of people Claire felt lonely and her new husband suggested that heroin might help her battle her emotions. This suggestion worked, Claire found heroin calmed her, masked her depression and made her feel in control.
Her and her husband began to drift apart, his dreams of touring the world as a rock star were becoming steadily out of his reach and as a result he either lashed out at Claire or became withdrawn turning to heroin to numb the pain of failed ambition.
Eventually Claire moved in with a single friend of hers whilst going through her first divorce. Her friend, a girl who she met through a friend of her ex also used heroin.
Together they lived in a small flat in Camden they had decorated with velvet throws and Indian ornaments- the perfect, chilled out environment for their drug use. They both were privileged enough to have family money which enabled them to finance their use and as a result stay in control.
Claire was just beginning her career as a costume designer, ambition fuelled she managed to get a placement in one of London’s top theatres. Her drug use never got in the way of her dreams, she vowed not to let it after watching her first love sink into a pit of addiction and lost desires.
Her body may have been physically dependant and occasionally on mornings she woke to shakes and painful cramps up and down her legs. But the money supplied her with endless amounts of heroin- she could give her body what it needed immediately and get on with her day.
Her family, however, got wind of the situation and insisted she spend time in a rehabilitation clinic. Her time at the clinic was short and as soon as she got out she began to use again, on and off for many years until she met Robert at a house party in 1976.
By this point Claire was a fully fledged costume designer and a regular at theatre openings and parties. Instantly noticeable by her odd clothes and loud laugh she immediately caught his eye. Robert could sense something in her, a connection he hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time. He knew that she shared his secret, for he too, loved heroin.
From the day they met until 1985 they lived in a heroin daze, using daily they both managed to put a substantial dent in their trust funds. But in 1985 something in them changed, looking at themselves they realised they had gone from bohemian romantics to desperate junkies- everything that the media had told them they would become: the walking dead.
“We decided we would wean ourselves off of it, get back on track with our careers but never stop using fully. We had the money to do so, so why not?!” Claire explains, “Friends of ours had devised rules for their heroin use so Robert and I took this advice and began only snorting a small amount morning and night to get us through the day. We managed, albeit a few relapses, to keep this going until we were down to only using heroin occasionally- mostly at weekends.”
Recreational heroin users, like Claire, all use the drug differently, some smoke it and snort it and others occasionally inject it. Each have their own theories about which works best to avoid addiction.
“Now, Robert and I just smoke it with friends. We all decide in advance when we’re going to have one of our get-togethers which are usually monthly then we chip in and buy a bag between us. We make sure we’ve got just enough to last the night so that the next day there’s no temptation to have a cheeky smoke before work or whatever.
“When I was younger I knew all the dealers- I could spot one from a mile off. I tend to keep away from that scene now so as not to fall back into using daily- when it’s there, you know you’ll do it. Now I travel to Soho which is about 45 minutes from home. That way I don’t get a regular dealer, someone I can call up at any time of day. That’s when it starts to get dangerous.
“Robert and I also keep an eye on one another, we’ve recently had a friend visiting from Kenya- he was up for a month so we were using every weekend whilst he was here. We’ve both decided that we need to have a break now, so we’re not going to use for another month.”

Britain's Million Pound Lost War

Britain has been fighting a war on drugs for almost 50 years. A war that is being lost and one which is costing the taxpayer £3 million a day.
Heroin is public enemy Number One. If your car has been stolen, your handbag snatched or your house broken into, it’s pretty safe to say that heroin was the motivation behind the crime. Three out of four heroin addicts commit crime to fund their habit.
There are an estimated 800,000 problematic drug users in the UK. This means the UK is the country with the highest proportion of heroin users in Europe.
Of these, 300,000 are parents who may be subjecting their children to neglect and abuse, exposing them to crime from an early age and increasing their likelihood to become addicted to drugs when they are older. The age at which children are starting hard drugs is getting lower. In the past seven years the number of children under the age of 15 in Scotland checking into rehab clinics has quadrupled to 418.
Blood born diseases are also on the rise: the number of HIV cases in the EU has almost doubled since 1999 and hepatitis C cases are rising by roughly 10% every two years.
These viruses aren’t the only health risk that habitual heroin users face in the UK: their veins can become infected and blocked, withdrawal symptoms between hits cause them cramps, nausea and intense pain, not to mention the risks to personal safety involved in obtaining heroin.
With this many problems caused by heroin it’s no wonder that people scowl at addicts when they walk past, call them the scum of society, or spit on homeless people whilst they beg. £573 million of public money is spent each year on putting addicts into rehab- so people tend to feel their hard earned money is going towards helping the very people who are destroying society.
But what if all these problems are not caused by heroin but government policy? And what if there was a solution out there which would reduce crime rates, protect children from neglect, reduce the number of HIV and Hepatitis C cases and cut the numbers of drug related deaths. A solution ministers have resolved never to put into place. That solution is legalizing heroin and making it, once more a prescription drug like it was before the 1960s.
It’s a strategy Switzerland has adopted. Ten years ago a visit to their capital city, Bern, would have included some unexpected tourist sites, such as heroin users taking over whole streets and parks to deal and inject. That was until the government took the controversial decision to introduce needle exchanges and clean injection rooms where addicts could take heroin under the watchful eye of a nurse. Then, in 1998, the government made its most controversial decision to date: to introduce a ten-year trial heroin prescription programme. Available only for addicts for whom everything else has failed, those on the programme have an average heroin usage behind them of 13 years. Addicts on the programme are viewed as having a chronic, relapsing disease for whom nothing else has worked. And they must have tried at least two abstinence programmes before being accepted for the scheme.
Fast forward ten years and the differences the trial has made to Swiss society have been huge. Drug related crime has dropped by 60% and parents can relax: their neighbourhoods are drug litter free. These are just some of the reasons why, when asked whether the trial should become an established remedy, 68% of Swiss voters voted in favour.
Opponents say that it encourages young people onto drugs and never gets addicts completely clean.
However, Dr Chrisoph Buerki disagrees. Working in Switzerland’s main clinic each day, he cannot see how clinics like his would ever glamorise heroin.
“Heroin was a very ‘in’ and fashionable thing to do in the 1980s, 90s, but now people who take heroin have the image of losers, junkies,” Buerki says. “Just looking at my clinic, nobody thinks this is a good thing - it’s not cool to go to a clinic like ours to get heroin twice daily. We’ve medicalised heroin in Switzerland - it has the image of an ugly illness and that is why, I think, the number of new addicts are falling. Very few young people are turning to heroin in Switzerland these days”
Currently, the argument that the programme never gets addicts fully clean is compelling. Of the 16,000 patients on the programme, very few have managed to quit the drug completely. However, that may not be a bad thing. Users with the level of addiction of those on the programme may never get completely clean from heroin, studies have shown. At least the programme keeps their use steady - and allows them to lead a normal life.
Jan, 33, has been an addict since he was 20 and for the last eight years he has been on the programme.
“At first I didn’t want to come here,” Jan says. “I thought it was the lowest of the low, but I am an addict. And I’ve got a job now, and two sons, so I live a pretty normal life. My kids just know that Dad is sick and has to take his medicine each day.”
So far the benefits the programme brings in Switzerland far out way the cons. But would anyone in Britain vote for such a scheme?
Doctors were allowed until 1962 to prescribe heroin to patients who had subsequently become addicted. That was until three doctors were caught selling heroin to their patients for profit. Others were suspected of over-prescription, with the extra heroin sold by addicts on the black market. Prohibition was introduced and doctors were allowed to prescribe it only if they had special permission from the Home Office.
Methadone was introduced as a substitute drug. But critics claim its use was based on inconclusive research combined with pressure on doctors from the drug companies that manufactured methadone.
Advocates of methadone said heroin prescription ‘fed a habit’ whereas methadone was a medical treatment.
But what the medical profession may have failed to realise was that methadone is a potentially more addictive substance than heroin. And although temporarily reducing a user’s need for heroin, it does not remove all cravings. A majority of users on methadone programmes either top up with heroin or quit the programme altogether: a third of patients drop out in their first year of methadone.
There were roughly 1000 heroin users in London when prohibition was introduced. But when their supplies were cut off and the substitute failed to suppress their cravings they found new ways of getting heroin. They broke into pharmacies and sought new users to sell their wares to. As the market for the drug grew so did the supply from abroad. The demand and supply for heroin grew until the UK reached the position we are in now: a multi million pound illegal drug business.
Now, heroin dealers don’t need to seek out new users. Their 800,000 regular customers keep demand so high they don’t have enough product to meet it.
Like any other business, dealers and suppliers stay on top of current trends. Such as the trend for injecting heroin and cocaine together (known as speedballing) or the fashion for many heroin users to use crack cocaine. In Ipswich, for example, if you purchase heroin and cocaine together you’ll receive a £10 discount. In Liverpool, you get a free rock of crack for every two bags of heroin bought. Iceland eat your heart out.
If ministers were doing enough to keep heroin addiction under control, would dealers be able to offer their customers such good deals? Would the heroin and cocaine market be worth more than £4 billion?
Critics like the RSA committee say the answer is a simple no. And as long as the Government keeps trying to fight the drugs trade instead of focussing on individual addiction they are wasting money. The market has grown too large: as long as there is a demand for illegal drugs, the drugs trade will be able to meet it. It is a billion pound industry comprising of many individuals and organisations. And as soon as you arrest one dealer or shut down a network, another can crop up in its place. The resources available to the drugs trade, plus its incentive to continue trading, means it is unlikely to be shut down anytime soon.
Instead, the Government could reduce the demand for the dealers’ product by “nationalising” the heroin supply and distributing it only on prescription, says police chief Constable Richard Brunstrom.
Fulton Gillespie, whose son died of a heroin overdose, was one of three parents who gave evidence to the House of Commons home affairs committee, urges legalisation.
“We have to take control away from criminals and place it back where it belongs- with the people. At the moment it’s the criminals who are calling the shots,” Gillespie said.
“I cannot for the life of me see how we can expect to deal (with the drug situation) if we are not in charge of the supply ourselves.”
Michael Burrows, a 21 year old heroin addict, agrees. “Dealers aren’t stupid. They aren’t going to continue selling something which there isn’t a demand for. A small proportion of their money comes from new users, it’s addicts like me who provide all the profit.
“I’m desperate to get my drug use under control, if I got it on prescription I could get on with my life, pass my degree, get a job, possibly a family. I would never need to see my dealer again, and the rest of his customers would go the same way. If he’s got no one to sell to, he’ll move on, stop selling heroin, stop buying it from the traffickers and the amount there is in the country would decrease. It is as simple as that.”
Once in the grips of their addiction most drug users do not go to their dealers for heroin for the high it gives them. Users who resort to crime to afford their drugs do not do so because they enjoy it. Female addicts who sell their bodies for cash do not find it empowering. They are doing so to fund their habit. To end the terrible withdrawal symptoms they are feeling, to put an end to the fear they feel when they wake up to discover that they have no heroin left. By this point users aren’t using for their high, they need heroin to feel normal again, to function. And they’d give anything to live a normal life like you and I.
A normal life is certainly something Rachel Craick, 29, is aiming for. Using since she was 18, for the past four years Rachel has been facing her demons and trying to put her addiction behind her. Currently working her way up the music business Rachel is desperate not to throw away all her hard work. “I’ve wasted seven years on that shit,” Rachel says. “And I am almost 100% sure I am over it. Although I know full well that my stupidity, that ‘one last fix’ feeling could place me right back where I was.”
That place was full of danger, self destruction and shame:
“I did anything for heroin. I began by fucking my dealer for it, before moving onto working in seedy, low budget pornos then onto the streets. I’d steal thousands off of my punters, putting my life on the line just for my next hit.
“Although I feel so dirty for selling my body like that it’s not the guilt from the prostitution that keeps me awake at night. I hocked my engagement ring, my eternity ring. Gifts which meant the world to me. I stole from my family, my friends. Even those who stuck by me when everyone else had left. I broke their trust and I can’t blame them for not wanting anything to do with me now.
“The severity of what I was doing to myself and everyone around me didn’t set in when I was doing it though. I only realise now, four years later, whilst looking into why I became addicted that I understand how terrible I was. But back then… the need for heroin was far greater than everything else. It consumed me.”
This uncontrollable, all consuming need means that addicts put themselves in extremely dangerous situations daily. Women especially are at risk.
In the midst of her addiction Rachel found herself in some nasty places: “I was working as a prostitute which obviously saw me out on the street each night, places where there was no CCTV, no police presence, and dark, dark places. But it wasn’t just when I was trying to get money I was in danger. Looking back I can’t believe the places I would go to score. Meeting dealers alone, shooting up in alley ways, under bridges, in strangers’ flats. Who knows what could have happened to me? I was too out of it to care.”
You only have to look at the 2006 Ipswich prostitute killings to see how much danger addicts will place themselves in for their next hit.
All five victims were drug addicted prostitutes who continued to work, despite the knowledge that there was a serial killer targeting their area. A killer suspected to be a regular punter who they’d happily climb into a car with.
Victim Paula Clennell told police two days before her disappearance that she would continue to work as she needed the money. The withdrawal symptoms she would face if she couldn’t afford to upkeep her heroin and cocaine addiction were far worse than the risk she was putting her life in.
The danger the girls put themselves into gained a lot of publicity at the time. The public could not believe that when it came to a choice between their lives and heroin they would pick heroin every time. However, for the prostitutes themselves the situation they were in was nothing new.
They felt police telling them to leave the streets was patronising, as they had been told many times that what they were doing was dangerous. They were well aware of the risks, but by this point their addictions were too out of control for them to matter. The only thing the Government could have done to stop these girls being in danger was to give them what they were selling their bodies for: heroin.
It isn’t just women who put themselves in danger. Many drug addicted men are also turning to selling their bodies for drugs. Jake, 31, is one of them.
“Lately I’ve been going to sex parties of rich men,” Jake says. “I let them urinate and spit on me, then I let other junkies have anal sex with me whilst the men watch on. We take turns and are forced to give each other oral during and after. Then many of the men ejaculate on me. I am forced to clean this up with my mouth, eating pee and cum. I receive a brick (of heroin) for each party. I hate living this way.”
An extreme example but many men are doing similar: pimping themselves out in public toilets, acting in porn. All which increase the number of HIV and Hepatitis C cases across the country.
It’s a common myth that those who do not inject drugs or have sex with addicts are not at risk from blood born diseases, but with one third of the population having admitted to having unprotected sex no one knows who their current partner might have slept with.
It is also not just shared needles that increase the infection, addicts who share the same cooking up spoons, water and filters can also spread infection.
As a prescribed heroin programme would provide clean equipment it would result in a serious decrease in blood born viruses across the UK says the RSA.
The programme would also dramatically reduce the billions the NHS spends each year treating the health problems that come with drug addiction.
This is because the only health problem legalised prescription heroin causes is mild constipation. The others are all a result of the black market.
The majority of vein problems caused from injecting are not down to the substance itself but how pure the heroin is, what it is mixed with and unsafe injecting techniques.
When an addict loses his or her limb this is down to unsafe injecting and dirty needles. Bacteria (from using a dirty needle) form under the skin causing a lump about the size of a goose’s egg at the injection site. Forming over a couple of days if left untreated it infects the bone and doctors have to amputate before the bacteria spreads and causes death.
Similarly, a study by BioMed Central showed that the majority of drug related deaths are either down to the user not knowing the heroin’s purity or the conditions in which they use.
An experiment involving two groups of rats showed that unknown surroundings can increase the likelihood of overdose.
The rats were originally given a controlled amount of morphine as a group and then split into two with one group of rats moving to a new cage. Despite the fact that both sets of rats were given the same amount of morphine as before, the rats in the new cage overdosed. None of the rats who remained in the original cage experienced any problems.
Following this, the doctors in charge of the study interviewed ten overdose survivors and seven of these stated that their overdose had occurred in a place where they were not used to injecting.
The doctors concluded that the body can adjust to a drug’s effects if it recognises the surroundings but if your body cannot recognise its surroundings then it cannot prepare itself for the effects of the drug and may react badly.
This study showed that if the Government were to set up environments where addicts could inject safely, such as shooting galleries, the number of drug related deaths would decrease.
Currently some doctors in Britain have obtained licenses from the Home Office to prescribe heroin. However, most doctors tend to prefer prescribing methadone. Some have listed the lack of procedure in place when it comes to prescribing heroin as their reason not to- not because they don’t think it would work.
Here, unlike in Switzerland, addicts aren’t given their prescription under supervised conditions. The very few addicts who are granted a prescription are given pure heroin as a freeze dried powder along with clean injecting equipment to take away with them. As there are no current protocols for doctors to stick to there is no guaranteeing that what they are handing out won’t be resold on the black market.
There is also a lack of demand from addicts for prescribed heroin, although many addicts, including the editor of Black Poppy magazine, believe this is because the possibility of getting the script is so rare that they do not bother asking for it.
Some doctors also cited lack of resources as their reason for not prescribing heroin. In Britain there is an unavailability of facilities and inadequate funding for supervised injection.
Supervised injection would require attendance at injecting rooms two or three times daily which would increase treatment costs. Methadone needs to be taken only once a day and can be taken in a chemist. This may prove cost effective for the short term but with the majority of users still using on top it does little to combat long term costs such as those the NHS and Police Services incur each year. The Home Office has estimated that for every pound spent on a heroin maintenance programme will save three pounds in crime costs.
The original intention behind the current methadone programme in place is for it to be used as a short term method for addicts to wean themselves off heroin before being placed in an inpatient rehabilitation centre to get them fully clean.
However, only half of the addicts who make it successfully through a methadone detox are able to obtain a place in inpatient rehab units and of those that do manage to get a place only one third emerge completely drug free.
This is because the success of this programme is down to the quality of the counselling addicts receive whilst on the programme. And with many addicts feeling they cannot be honest with their drug counsellor this treatment is not simply not adequate.
“If an addict admits to using heroin their methadone supply will be cut, so they lie for fear of losing their prescription,” says Joanna Young, a female drugs counsellor at the Homeless Outreach Project. “The women I see have come voluntarily to the charity for help and know they can be honest with me about their use. From this I can get to the bottom of why they relapsed or why they continue to use despite wanting to be clean, yet for many addicts the only counsellor they see is the one offered to them through their methadone programme. If they have to lie to them then there is no way the counsellor can get to the root of why they are using.”
Before even thinking of managing to get clean addicts have to face up to why they began using in the first place, says Young.
The experience of heroin, although hyped up, isn’t as enjoyable as other drugs. It’s the physical and emotional dependence of heroin that keeps addicts going back for more.
This is certainly the case for Esme, a 19 year old addict.
“My counsellor asked me the other week why I chose heroin when I know it makes me ill and I have admitted other drugs do much more for me. The answer I gave him was that I want to hide and a heroin high is the best place to remain hiding from everything.”
For people who have been excluded for the most of their lives, often through neglect from their families the fact that drug taking creates communities is a big appeal for them, explains Young. Through drugs they will meet people from similar backgrounds and in similar situations – people who understand them.
“Heroin certainly attracts fuck ups,” says Mike, “My drug taking friends would never judge me- for they’ve done the same or often worse.”
Self destruction is a common trait in the majority of addicts. John, a 32 year old addict from Bristol has been self destructive since birth.
“I’ve always had a great deal of hatred inside of me, ever since I was a lad.” says John, “Anytime I would get upset when I was younger I’d lash out at myself and it made me feel better. I’m doing the same now with my heroin use- I see it as self medication as it never fails to make me feel better.”
This self medication is often as a way of hiding from problems that have occurred earlier in life. The Home Office have made discoveries that show that the environment addicts have been brought up in was a major influence in why their drug use spiralled out of control.
The most obvious example of this is when a child is subjected to drug use in the womb.
The discoveries showed that less direct environmental influences can also increase the likelihood of drug use in later life. Childhood sexual or physical abuse for example. Abuse obviously causes a great deal of emotional pain which a person may choose to escape from by using drugs but neuroscientists have also discovered traumatic events can also alter chemicals in the brain making an abuse victim more likely to gain support from drugs. ‘Just Say No’ doesn’t seem so simple now, does it?
Ultimately a full blown addiction is a disease. Withdrawal sufferings are the symptoms. Heroin is the cure. Self inflicted it may have been at first, but when an addict first turned to heroin they were not doing so knowing what lay ahead. Campaigners for heroin prescription have shown that by withholding prescription heroin from addicts Britain is forcing them to risk prison, isolation and death- all for a mistake they once made- believing that heroin would improve their lives.
These words were found inscribed on an addict’s walls whilst their writer lay dead on the floor- another victim of Britain’s war on drugs:
“The hot chills and cold sweats, the withdrawal pains,
Can only be stopped by my little white grains.
There's no other way and no need to look,
For deep down inside you know you are hooked.
You'll give up your morals, your conscience, your heart,
And you will be mine until death us do part.”
And these words will live long in the hearts of addicts, as the pact the have made with death slowly begins to run out. That is until the Government open their eyes to the damage the black market, for which they are responsible for, is doing to our country.

The Heroin Addict No One Imagined

Picture a heroin addict. Do you see a skinny, dirty scumbag covered in track marks that you avoid at all costs? Someone who immediately causes you to look down and hold tight onto your bag? Someone who will harass you for money until you give in- only to go and spend it on their high?
That’s what I saw. Until I met Mike. Sitting across from me in a trendy Brighton pub Mike looks just like many of my closest friends: a bright, young student with a love of music, films and the internet. And he is all that. Apart from the one thing that sets him apart from his peers: at aged 21 Mike’s a heroin addict.
“I understand where the junkie stereotype comes from” he says, “when people imagine a junkie they see the visible addicts, those you see begging on the streets, robbing from your local shop. You don’t see me. No one stops and thinks ‘oh look, there’s a respectable heroin user’. As in their minds there’s no such thing.”
But a respectable user he is. Currently enrolled on a methadone programme Mike isn’t out robbing old ladies to fund his habit. Before methadone, Mike was a driver for a heroin dealer, certainly illegal but by no means the worst crime he could have committed. Everyday Mike meets those in a worse position than him. Just after meeting me he meets a young woman who has been a prostitute since she was 13 - just to fund her habit.
In the three years he has been on heroin Mike has seen every type of addict. From those deep into a 30-year addiction to the hedonists just starting out, hoping they’ll be among those for whom addiction never takes hold.
And then there’s Mike, the addict you never imagined existed. His addiction, although consuming, hasn’t taken its toll. Still young and handsome Mike looks clean and healthy. He’s also extremely bright, funny and sharp throughout our whole meeting. I never once get the feeling that he’s itching to leave, dreaming of his next fix. To look at him you would be forgiven for thinking that Mike is a great advert for trying what is said to be the greatest drug on earth.
He disagrees: “If I had to give advice to someone who was thinking of trying it, I’d of course want to tell them not to. But heroin doesn’t really work like that, I know that when I was curious about trying it if anyone had told me not to I was so hell bent that I would have told them to screw it.
“There are people who can use and get away with it for a couple of years, not getting addicted. I was like that for months, but life is unpredictable and when it throws something at you and all you’ve got is smack, well you’re fucked for the next however many years. The thing I’d remind people about gear is ‘don’t get too cocky’.”
Mike first started heroin in Manchester. He cites curiosity as the initial reason for first trying it but now realises that unconsciously it was a form of self destruction: “I was always the rebellious kid in school and from a very young age when I was sneaking off for cigarettes, way before everyone else started experimenting, I just knew that drugs would be where I ended up.”
His first couple of months on heroin were “the best time of my life”,
“But what people don’t realise is that social side doesn’t last forever. After that it was like I was carrying a huge monkey on my back constantly harassing me for dope.
But this time it wasn’t as fun as it once was and we were all getting more and more selfish over the stuff.”
Since moving from Manchester the social side that was left of his heroin use has been abandoned completely. In his student halls there is no one who he can open up to about his habit: “can you imagine that? All my friends would go running” he laughs, “most of the people I am meeting only discovered drinking about a year ago, to them heroin is what they read in the papers: a dirty drug that you stay away from and if anyone you know starts using cut them out before they get you on it.”
Before meeting Mike many of my friends were worried for my safety, worried I’d come back robbed. Afterwards when I told them about our meeting and how much I enjoyed meeting Mike it is the small details that amaze them. They find it hard to believe that Mike has a mobile phone and an MP3 player- “must’ve been nicked” observed one of my friends- fooled by the media’s demonization of drug users. In actual fact Mike’s MP3 player is too old to have been stolen and his phone was a Christmas present, but these accusations are ones Mike has to face every day.
The public view him as a criminal so making new friends can be hard. Old friends aren’t an option to talk to about his habit either- he’s too scared he’ll lose them if he’s honest.
The fear of being shunned makes it impossible for Mike to discover the roots of his addiction.
“It really annoys me when the media make up all this bullshit about heroin. It doesn’t help anyone. All it does is demonize drug users and makes it harder for us to come off the stuff. Because of the media hype people can’t accept that a junkie may be a good person going through a rough time.
“Everyone thinks that heroin is this terrible drug and anyone who uses it is scum. They think they can try and fool us with methadone so people won’t see it for what it is: just another drug.”
The current methadone programme in his experience is “definitely not working. Almost everyone I know on the programme is using heroin on top. And it sucks cause they are all lying to their core drug workers about it, myself included: we can’t risk them knowing about the heroin as they’d cut our script.”
The methadone itself does very little to cure Mike’s cravings: “I am a heroin addict. I need heroin. Methadone isn’t going to stop me wanting it, all it does is take away the terror of where I’m going to get my next hit from. When I’m on it I don’t do anything illegal to get the cash for heroin.”
If the one benefit that methadone has is cutting back on crime many people believe it is the best thing for society; according to Mike, however, there is “no chance” methadone itself will ever allow him a stable life. Which means he shall probably go back to crime one day.
“When I first started I just had heroin when I had the cash, now I need it otherwise it’s all I think about. I can’t concentrate on my course, I can’t talk to my friends: all I can do is obsess about where my next hit is coming from. At the moment I’m alright for money with my loan and stuff but soon that’ll run out and there’s no way methadone will stop my cravings all together, I’ll have to get the money from somewhere. All morals go out the window when you’re jonesing for heroin.”
Morals are something which lay at the core of who Mike is: refusing to let me buy him a pint it’s clear that his integrity is important to him. He didn’t come to speak to me for payment, he just wants the world to sit up and listen to his views.
“The thing that annoys me about current policy is it is so black and white, it’s like if you’re ‘willing to come to us and tell us you’ll stop for good, we’ll put you on the methadone and support you but if you come to us and say I’m going to keep using, I just want to remain steady, constant in my use without having to turn to crime we’ll tell you to leave.’ But no one can be forced to give up. I know I’ll have to hit rock bottom before I’ll willingly quit.
“I know so much more about the effects of heroin, how methadone makes you feel than my core worker. But no one listens to me when I say that methadone is working for no one, that the only thing to do to get users in control of their habit is to give them heroin. But to them I’m just a stupid smackhead who wants to get his kicks for free. What they don’t get is now the pleasure I get from heroin is so minimal it’s pathetic, I enjoy my first cigarette of the morning more than I enjoy smack. I wish more people would listen to what addicts themselves are going through rather than some stupid minister who’s probably never even seen brown. But no one does and that’s why they don’t have any control over the situation.”
Heroin, to Mike, is now what insulin is to a diabetic. He needs it each day to keep going.
Diabetics, however, did not make a conscious decision that made them ill. Well aware that most people believe he deserves the mess he is in, Mike explains that the reason you go down that path isn’t simple:
“People forget that what you do to your body isn’t always down to you, stuff in your past, stuff happening in the present effects the way you do things. No one judges a self harmer, they recognise that they have deep down issues which make them act the way they do. People are willing to help those who self harm and trying heroin is the same sort of self destruction. But this time people aren’t willing to help, to them you’re a selfish person who has dug his own grave.”
Mike is a self harmer but has moved on from cutting himself to release the pain to self medicating heroin to erase traumatic events in his past. His family life was chaotic and has always influenced the life choices he has made along the way.
“My Dad was a big drinker and I’ve always been following in his footsteps. In a funny way I am almost grateful to the heroin for getting me off the drink, I am so much more in control with heroin than I ever was on alcohol.
“My Dad loved alcohol more than me so maybe when I first started to drink I was drinking to discover what was so great about it that stopped him from loving his son.
“I’m trying to look into the reason why I am an addict but it is impossible to evaluate your life or your choices when you are a 'street' addict. Your entire day is spent in the quest for money and drugs, there is no time to think about more important matters.”
Mike recalls vividly a day when his whole mind was consumed by his next hit: it’d had been over 24 hours since he’d last had heroin and after a sleepless night he headed into town to try and score. It was the first really cold day of winter and overnight yesterday’s rain had turned to ice. Slipping his way down Brighton’s quiet streets, shuddering and desperately trying not to be sick Mike searched for an old hippy he knew would be able to help him. Indeed the hippy could and took him under his wing like a lost toddler. His saviour was waiting on a huge delivery. Mike eagerly began the long wait for its arrival. It never came. So he carried on hunting all over town, desperately needing a cigarette but shaking too much to roll one and well aware that the first drag would cause him to vomit. Six hours later and finally Mike’s friend found them a bag. Rushing to the nearest high rise tower block, they began climbing their way to the top floor. It was a brilliantly sunny but icy cold winter day and they found the perfect spot beside a huge window overlooking the sun drenched city. Mike was far too cold and sick to inject himself so he just sat there looking over the golden city and sea, his bare arm outstretched. Suddenly rush, waves of relief. Pure and utter relief washing over him again and again. Growing warmer with each wave Mike really felt that it had all been worthwhile. Until he pegged it down the stairs and his feelings of longing for another hit began all over again.
Each day for Mike is different but the same, an endless desperate hunt to relieve him of his pain.
“Prescribing heroin to addicts is not about letting them gouch out all day, it's about giving them a large part of their lives back, and, often for the first time in years, giving them the time to start thinking about their lives again.”
Methadone does not give Mike the chance to confront the woes behind his addiction and begin living his life again. Instead it turns him back to his first love: alcohol.
“When I kick heroin for a couple of months and am just on methadone. At those times I drink so much more. But no one pays any attention to that, I reckon half the people I meet in the clinic are alcoholics but the clinic only care about getting you off heroin, they don’t care that everything is just a substitution for another addiction.”
Another love of Mike’s was the girlfriend he left behind at the beginning of his addiction.
“Once heroin entered my life my sex drive disappeared. I did love my girlfriend but I had a new love now. Essentially I was fucking my arm every day.”
This infidelity with his ‘other women’ was too much for Mike’s girlfriend to take and she walked out on him. A move which spurred Mike into the next realm of his addiction.
“I became a regular user after we split up, it was a conscious decision spurred on by the depression and anxiety I was feeling at the time. This is what I mean by heroin being fun when you don’t have anything to worry about but life is always going to have its ups and downs, and when I was on a downer I knew that heroin would temporarily make all that disappear.”
When asked if he was ready for a new girlfriend Mike politely informs me that yes, his sex drive is back and yes, he would like to meet someone but is also painfully aware that no women would come near him if they were aware of his secret- unless “they were covered in tattoos and piercings” he says with a wry smile.
“It’d be nice to have someone to talk to, be close with. The embrace that heroin offers me used to be enough but now I’m just lonely, embroiled in a bitter love affair with drugs. I hate to love them and love to hate them. I see no way out.”
After the interview Mike stays for another pint and we chat about our different courses, football teams and taste in music. By the time we have to leave I have almost forgotten that the boy sitting with me is a heroin addict.
Asked how he will spend the rest of his evening Mike’s response jolts me back to reality- “off to score” he says with a shrug. Regular student nights like watching the football in the pub or studying late in the library are all out of the question for Mike who, until he can exorcise his demons, will be spending his nights with the only true friend he has: heroin.

Crocuses Through The Snow


It’s funny how some things can change you so much but then in other ways not at all. Four years ago my mother died of a brain tumour. She was 56. I was 19. Before that my family and I had an uphill six month struggle, trying to look after her, ourselves and each other.
I won’t imagine us to be something we weren’t before the diagnosis. We weren’t your average 2.4 children family. My mum was a feminist, my Dad a cross dresser struggling to find where he belonged in this world. My sister and I were completely different from one another and squabbled constantly and my Grandma, a devout Christian, confused by the odd family she had ended up with. But despite our differences to all the other families around us, I have never encountered one that loved each other so much.
And then an evil entered our lives, in the form of a tumour growing slowly inside my Mum’s head. And it really did threaten to tear us apart. But despite our lives changing completely we kept the love and optimism we had had all those happy years in us. So in that respect who we really were never changed.
I am often teased for being overtly optimistic; shouting ‘this is the best thing that has ever happened to me!’ when confronted by a free food sample in shops. I don’t blame people for this; I know that optimism is often a trait confused with naivety. But I’m not naïve; I’ve seen that the world isn’t fair, that it is full of trauma. I just believe the best way of dealing with this trauma is by seeing its silver lining.
When my Mum was in her final few days of life I used to go see her in the hospice and treat myself to a J20 at only 80 pence- that and the free internet was my silver lining to my own situation.
I don’t want you to get me wrong here, the bargainous price of juice didn’t make me forget everything that was going on around me but thinking of something positive in all the doom and gloom did make a small difference to how I felt.
I also believe my Mum’s optimism helped her in a bigger way; when she was diagnosed we were told she would live for three days, in the end she lived for six months and throughout this she managed to stay upbeat and kept writing the book she was so passionate about. Would she have lived as long if she and everyone else had curled up in a ball of self pity? I don’t think so.
I hope I am not making this sound easy, like I am sneering at those going through a similar situation to mine and not managing to stay upbeat. Looking on the bright side of life knackered me everyday and I often fell into huge pits of depression or looked for happiness in the wrong places.
During my mother’s illness there were visitors and nurses in and out of the house 24 hours a day. Everyday they would see me, curled up on the couch watching endless re runs of Sex and The City. Going through the motions I would get up and offer them some soup from the huge pot we always had on the stove. I would hear them say; ‘oh it’s amazing how happy she is’ or ‘at least she’s at home’ and I’d smile weakly and let the words wash over me. I got no comfort from them. Hearing the same things over and over made my chest tighten until I felt my lungs might explode. It baffled me how my sister and my Grandma could talk about her illness all day and all night with these strangers, strangers who were always seeing me cry. In the comforting words of others I could see no hope, it made me cross to see them putting a cheery spin on our situation; hypocrite that I am. I think I felt this way as they didn’t see what I saw; they couldn’t feel what I felt. Every night they didn’t take their shift watching her sleep and they didn’t place their head on her chest listening to her heart beat- terrified to pull away in case it stopped. They couldn’t hear the bizarre ramblings she used to go on, how she would yell hateful words at my father because the tumour was telling her he was doing something wrong.
His whole face turned into a monster’s face during that time, warped and distorted from tiredness and loss. I’d lie in bed and hear him bang his fist against the wall, his jaw crack, crack, cracking.
And I’d often turn up for my night shift, at 3 am, with the warmth of tequila wrapped around me, and I’d watch her sleep through hazy eyes thinking of the boy I was infatuated with at the time.
That’s one of the main things they don’t tell you about grief. Is that your life carries on, I was in my last year of being a teenager; I was wrapped up in everything my friends were.
When she was diagnosed I’d just returned from the most amazing six months travelling and was working in a pub full of gorgeous guys, months away from beginning my course at the University of Sheffield. Looking back on that time it is impossible to differentiate between what I was doing because I was young and what I was doing because I was going through intense grief. Did I get wasted every night as a defence mechanism? Did I fall in love with my childhood friend, the one my Mum always joked I would marry, because he was hot and charming or because I wanted to do something she wanted? I still don’t know the answers to these questions. It appears now that every mistake I make will always link back to what I have been through. Even now I am a terribly disorganised person, I struggle to do the day to day things that others appear to find so easy. I am told this is because I am struggling to deal with my loss. But what if I’m just disorganised? Does my whole personality link back to what has happened? My mind block on memories of who I was before the tumour gives me no answers.
As you can see I wasn’t an optimistic, smiling person throughout it all. I don’t believe anyone can be. But without strength you can’t have happiness and vice versa. Happiness isn’t something that just comes one day; you can’t take it for granted. You have to work on it, especially throughout the hard times.
I remember leaving my house one day, looking up at it, its green shutters and messy plant pots and I thought to myself; I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I had never felt emotions like the ones I was going through that year and it was enlivening. I truly felt what it was like to be living. Then that same day I fell into a pit of sadness and wrote in my diary that love means nothing; no matter who we have in our life we are alone. I had both these crazy emotions inside of me, battling to see who would win.
The day she died I saw something that confirmed to me that I would not let the depression inside me beat me. It was snowing heavily and I was staring out the window of the hospice, all I could hear was the clack of my Grandma’s knitting needles and the sounds of my Mum’s croaky breathing. I couldn’t look at her too long, her left eye was half open and if you looked closely there was no life in it, the other one was glued tight shut. I concentrated on the snow. It had wrapped everything in its blanket apart from a couple of crocuses who were poking their vivid purple and yellow heads through the white. They hadn’t let the snow get them down. They had kept fighting through it. So I resolved I would do the same, my Mum was a brave person- she had kept her vivid colours showing despite an illness which was trying to fade them out. I could do the same.
It wasn’t easy, from the day she was diagnosed to the day she died my world had been slowly crumbling down. I searched hard for the beauty in the wreckage. I occasionally still do. On Sunday, it was four years since the day she died and we sat in our little, winding, windmill of a house and were together. My sister chose to remember her by braving the once feared photograph drawer. I wasn’t quite there yet, I am still having the greatest difficulties in remembering the way she was before the cancer took over.
But I am trying, and I can remember certain moments, certain smells, certain songs. And when the crocuses come I see her in them, the embodiment of positive thinking. It’s from those flowers that I know she is there still smiling. And so can I.