March 2009

At the beginning of March I read in the Daily Telegraph that Julie Myerson has given an interview to a trade magazine about her new book, detailing her son’s descent into skunk cannabis addiction. I was surprised that she had decided to publish the story. Jon Myerson had got in touch with me through my web-site, after the Guardian published extracts of the Cannabis Diaries two years ago, in March 2007. He had said that friends presumed he or Julie had written the Diaries, the similarities in our stories were so great. We got together soon after, they came to us for supper and we shared stories of the pain of living with a child who had made such desperately sad decisions.

Will was not living with us then, and we doubted whether he ever would again. We had put him in bed and breakfast accommodation, not wishing for the nightmare of his presence in our house to continue. Jake was not living with his parents either, all of us were still in shock with what was evolving in our respective family’s lives. Jon had seemed genuinely interested when I asked if he might be prepared to set up the Talking About Cannabis Action Group, but some weeks later, with the first meeting organised, and only a few days away, he told me that he would not be there – that Julie’s career could be badly affected . ‘If the Daily Mail were to get hold of the story, I could be finished’ Julie said, very apologetically. We were at the end of an evening at their house, standing at their front door about to say goodbye. I was quietly stunned at the thought I was going to have to go ahead alone with the Group. Jon had already written some good emails and letters to contacts he had in Government. I was doubtful I could go it alone, although I soon got used to the idea, and other people emerged to help.

Now here we were two years later, and many commentators in the press were being openly hostile to Julie. Especially the Daily Mail, who vilified her for over two weeks. It was open season. Hard to believe that the publicity for the book could be so badly handled – she had walked out unprotected into the media arena. I was asked to comment in the press many times, and each time supported what she had done, knowing how much the Myerson’s story could raise the awareness of the problem of children smoking cannabis to a new level.

Will and I had been doing interviews together for some weeks. Our story had become one of hope. We had recently been asked to go on BBC Breakfast News together to comment on the new Talk to Frank cannabis campaign. Then when the Myerson story broke I was asked to go on again, within a matter of days, to talk about the concept of ‘tough love’ and how that had worked for our family. Because, unlike the Myersons, our son was now talking about the destructive effects that cannabis had had on him since he began smoking at school.

Amazingly, Will had been saying that since reading about himself in the papers, when I had given interviews about our family, he was forced to reflect on what had happened to him.

‘I was reading about myself, and couldn’t believe that I was being described in that way – like an archetypal drug addict when all I was doing was smoking cannabis. But everything my mum was saying was the truth, so I was forced to reflect and begin to make some changes. I was so far away from what I wanted my life to be.’

Asked to go to Television Centre again to talk about the Myerson’s story, I found myself sitting in a cab on the way there at around 6 am one morning. Looking out at the swirling early morning litter along the Old Kent Road, I began to prepare mentally, as I always do, what I might say when questioned on the programme. I was glad that the cabbie was quiet; glancing at the back of his head he appeared to be a chap in his early sixties. A few minutes later, maybe feeling the silence, the cab driver began to talk.

‘So, what are you going to talk about on Breakfast News then?’

Often happy to chat on the journey which can take up to an hour, I did not want to engage this time.

‘I’ve been asked to talk about cannabis and tough love. How families should cope when a child is using the stuff, what they should do.’

‘How do you mean?’

So I began telling him about my story, only briefly, how we had to distance ourselves from our eldest son when he became a habitual user of ‘skunk’.

I was not in the mood for talking. I wanted time to think about what I might say on live tv in less than thirty minutes.

‘Well, can I tell you,’ he began, ‘ that you are in a cab with someone whose life has been seriously affected by cannabis. Both my sons are addicted to it, and use other things too. I know how awful the stuff is.’

What? This was curious. The man began telling me about his children who were in their late twenties now. They were 27 and 29, and both were living at home. He and his wife were preparing to retire within the next two years, he told me. They planned to buy a small place in Dorset.

‘So, you asked your kid to leave? Well I can tell you, I really regret not asking my boys to leave. I got near to it once, but didn’t have the nerve and I wish I had been stronger now’, he said.

Trying to make him feel better about himself, I explained that we had two younger children to think about, how it wasn’t fair on them to have their lives affected so seriously by their brother’s actions. Presuming things had not got as bad as in our case, I told him that our son had been stealing from us, and from other people, so that had forced the issue.

‘Stealing – and aggression, violence? Oh, we’ve had all that. We have fights sometimes, all three of us. I can’t believe how they’ve turned out. They both work, but as soon as they have cash they spend it on drugs; that stuff they put up their noses is the worst. I can’t stand all that sniffing.’

He went on to detail how his children seemed to have no intention of living away from home. I asked him if he and his wife were going to invite them to go to Dorset with them.

‘Well, I’d rather it was just the two of us, but they will invite themselves I’ve no doubt.’

Come again? So here was this seemingly pleasant man, who seemed to have surrendered all of his power to his children. And both sons were nearly thirty, what was going on here?

He told me that he had nearly asked one of the boys to leave once, and the son had turned to him and said that if he did that he may never see his son again. I laughed then, saying it sounded like a good deal to me, but it would appear that this had shocked the father so much he had backed down.

‘What does your wife think about it all?’ I asked.

‘She treats our youngest like the baby, he is the favourite, can do no wrong. He stole her debit card out of her bag last year, and wiped out over £1500 from her account, and she said nothing, just pretended it hadn’t happened. She was so afraid she’d lose him if she got angry. I know it’s all wrong, but she won’t hear anything said against him. And I know why I can’t ask them to leave – I used to work as for the Pru. All the hours I worked, and earned a packet – but that meant that every Sunday I’d be doing my books, little time to spend with the family. One Sunday, I’ll never forget it, I was getting all my stuff prepared for the following day, surrounded by piles of paper as usual. I went into the kitchen to make a quick cuppa when I could hear my boys talking in the garden. They were trying to decide which one of them would come in and ask me if I would take them to the park. I was gutted, and you know I never worked Sundays again. I think that affected me though, I felt so guilty that I’d never given them enough attention’.

I’m drawn into this story now, and stunned by how back to front this family has become. The boys are ruling the parents, and this man was in so much pain about it. As we pull into Wood Lane, nearing our destination I turn my eyes to the right, looking out of the car window to see a battered white truck coming in the opposite direction with ‘What a load of rubbish’ emblazoned on the bonnet, advertising the company’s chosen trade. Yeah, that’s about right, I think.

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