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Longcat, please don't be angry with me but that post me me ROFL.    I hope your mum was OK after.  Did she ever find out what it actually really was.?

It took me a while to work out what was up with her then I twigged and explained she was a little stoned and it would wear off. She laughs now but she was really scared at the time and I did feel really bad.
longcat
For me, I believe, the 'gateway' drug was caffeine.

I was given it as a child, even by my own parents, mixed with hot water to bring more of the drug out from the tea leaves, cut with sugar and milk, to make the taste more appealing to a child.
This led to me not being able to function without taking the drug as soon as I woke up - a habit I live with to this day.

Often my dad would supply me with the drug, before even waking me. He would also throw the curtains back and shout, "Half fast o'clock! Half fast o'clock!", which, in truth, sounded more like 'Half arsed o'clock', which was more appropriate to how I felt in the mornings. 

Of course, as I became more tolerant of the drug, I craved the harder stuff, moving on to having at least two shots of coffee a day, sometimes three, as well as the tea. I didn't even need the milk anymore. My tea became stronger too, leaving the bag in for up to six minutes, to give it a proper kick.

I wasn't even prepared to give up the sugar, which led me to hiding supplies under my bed, when my parents realised that it wasn't actually that good for kids and tried to wean me off it. I convinced myself that I could give up the hard stuff, telling myself that I didn't have a 'sweet tooth' (I still had some left), but still got my fix in savoury products, hidden in bread and such like. 

I also had a Coke problem, finding the caffeine and sugar mixture was even more appealing when mixed with carbon dioxide bubbles. In those days, it was actually legal for kids to be left in cars, in pub car parks, with some Coke and flavoured potato snacks. It was rarely kept in the house (maybe at Christmas, or special occasions), as it only became affordable when parents were drinking in pubs, for some reason. Being denied it, only served to make me crave it more, however.

As I got older I even started growing my own fizzy drinks, when I was supplied with a ginger beer plant, which I had to feed and look after. Endless supplies of the stuff, as long as there was no sugar rationing!

Eventually, my love of sports led me to start smoking tobacco. A trip to the YMCA for a game of Squash, saw me finding a packet of cigarettes left in the changing room. I was brought up with the 'waste not, want not' mantra, so I didn't waste them. I found this led to more and more sports activities, going for jogs with a cigarette and a swan vesta down my sock, joining the cross country club, at school, which provided plenty of cover.

The alcohol was the next problem, although I'd been brought up with the middle class 'give them a glass of wine with a meal and they'll end up sensible' idea. The signs were there when, at the age of six, I downed a glass of red wine, after holding my glass up and declaring, "John Wayne, everybody, John Wayne!" Don't ask me why. The family just laughed.

By the time I'd reached my teens and was going to bring-a bottle parties, it was downhill all the way. Parents in the 70s seemed to be of the opinion that Cider wasn't alcoholic, so bottles were supplied quite readily and the 'Vomiting' years began. As long as I got my tea hit the next morning, I thought that I was still in control. Blackouts were all part of the rich tapestry of life, apparently, and there were always a few friends who had enough memory of the night before to let you know just how embarrassing you'd been.
Blizz'ard

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