I just remember my 'real first time', after seeing my folks! Not quite certain of the date, but it must be a good half century ago now, I was about 6 or 7, and suffering miserably from something called 'Croup' IIRC? One of those diseases that seems to have vanished or been renamed, it was like a teribble sore throat, temperature and cough, absolutely miserable. I was stuck in a woolen steam tent, with some scary medieval device like a weird kettle, which poured out steam, and this evil smelling stuff called Friar's Balsam.... to this day, the slightest whiff of it makes me nauseous! How serious it was I don't know, I did end up in hospital, so quite bad I expect.... whatever, I remember feeling utterly wretched, and Mum and Dad having a 'serious chat' out of earshot, before leaving the room, and returning with a wineglass, half filled with warm water and something that made it cloudy and green.
I clearly remember asking what it was, and my mother, eyes filled with dread and very, very solemn, saying "Chlorodyne", as if it was the Elixir of Life, laced with soluble Philosopher's Stone, offered up in the Holy Grail... or strychnine at least! With great respect, and a bit of fear, I took a sip... and it was delicious, sweet, warm and with a sort of liquorice flavour. Whatever, soon finished it, and said "thanks, that was nice!"...yet had no idea how much 'nice' was an understatement. It worked pretty fast, and as I was a bit delerious anyway at the time, it's hard to recall timeframes, onset of effects, first 'alert' or any of that stuff... suffice to say, before long I was feeling marvellous, warm, glowing even, not with fever, but with wonderful, relaxed euphoria... the relief and pleasure was then unfamiliar of course, which made it tremendous. Now,I'm not sure how long this lasted, which is a shame, but all too soon I was starting to feel bad again.
Being a kid, I naiively assumed I was 'cured', and my suffering was over, but needless to say, all too soon I was starting to feel ill... and getting iller. I wish I knew how long my heavenly 'wellness' lasted, maybe an hour or so? However long, it was not long enough! Quite naturally, logically and innocently, I wanted to feel well again, in fact I can still rememberr thinking it was 'better than well!' - perhaps an early danger sign of what was to come later in life? -and Of course, wanted more of that magic medecine, which, unlike any other 'medicines' I'd know until then, actually WORKED!
Even at that age, I had aquired a good sense of moods and 'atmospheres', and was reluctant to ask for more, somehow just realiseing and suspecting that there was something a bit weird about my parents attitude and behaviour, so I held on as long as I could, until weakness and misery became unbearable (likely two or three minutes based on subsequent events), and although I instinctively felt it was 'wrong', put on my best Oliver Twist look, and took the plunge...
"Oh Mum, I feel awful again... can I have some of that clorry stuff please?" Sure enough, my parents stared at me in utter horror, exchanged a terrible, 'Victorian mourning (dead baby) look, held each other up for support, and with pathetic attempts at 'sympathy' and understanding, sadly, solemnly and very emphatically told me "No!", in no uncertain terms, before moving out of range and having what appeared to be a quite passionate 'told you so!' conference, glancing at me now and then as if I had become an angry tarantula, with forced, sweet smiles. My first ever 'withdrawal' I suppose?
It was a bad one too, they called the Doc, who tutted and frowned, then gave me a massive, very painful injection of Penicillin which made my poor little bum ache for ages. And then I was off to hospital. When I came back, I remember looking for the magic potion, though honestly out of curiousity to see what it looked like - had I found it, I wouldn't dared to have pinched any. It was only because my folks had treated it with such dread and mystery, I was never shown the bottle, only the diluted, prepared 'elixir'.
Many years later, I was helping clear out my grandparents house, and as always when doing such jobs, once alone made for the medicine cabinet and had a rummage.... curses, no Valium, Codeine, Benzedrine.... I once found a huge bottle of Mandrax (from 1965 IIRC) which was nice, but nothing there at all! I knew very well that all the Morphine Grandad had been taking in his final illness was long gone, no doubt into the stomach of some lucky nurse or 'care worker'. What I did find however, right at the back, was a nearly full bottle of Dr Collis Browne's Compound... whohoo! The contents (form 1963) had solidified long ago, but a small splash of cheap scotch soon revitalised it, and I -with great reverence - had a taste.
Now, opiates are not really 'my poison', I like stimulants, but am always prepared to try anything which might be enjoyable, interesting, or fun... and it was lovely stuff. They still make it today, but have removed any 'entertaining' ingredients long ago, apart from a tiny, tiny dose of Morphine - only 20 mg in a £5.60 bottle, barely a battlefield dose! This old stuff was very different, age notwithstanding... and let's just say, I instantly realised why they had altered it... well worth 1/3d.. 6 new pence! Hat's off to Dr Collis Browne then, may he rest in peace.... I can think of nobody more certain of doing that in fact!
