Saturday Peacocking to 12 Stepping

By a comrade – 30 Jan 2022

“Ye want a line mate?”

That simple question would lead me on a mental, beautiful, ugly, dangerous, sad and almost life costing affair with drugs, mostly cocaine!!

I had taken drugs before but this was me, early 20s and involved in the casual scene. I’d always dressed casual but now I was part of the mob. CSC. Celtic Soccer Crew!

Initially the drugs didn’t bother me. It was still clothes, music, cameraderie, one-upmanship, being part of.

This isn’t about the madness of the football violence scene, this is the journey of the highs, the laughs, the lows, the sadness and eventually the darkness of drugs!

I’ll let ye know this for a start; I love cocaine. I love drugs. They done things for me I couldn’t for myself. Confidence, ego, swagger, bravery.
Drop an E and I’ll dance without a care in the world. A few lines of Charlie and I’ll fight Goliath, I’ll swagger up to that gorgeous lassie at the bar and hit her with the patter.

It started off as recreational. A Saturday thing, a weekend thing. I was a football casual, I couldn’t become an addict. Anyway, it was cocaine. Ye don’t addicted to that, do you?

How wrong was I. On both counts!

Drugs don’t discriminate. It doesn’t care if ye wear £700 jackets or a jumble sale wooly jumper.

So, from what started as a few years of “dabbling” recreationally. Ye know, a gram or 2 on a Saturday at the football, being sociable, sharing yer gear, having a fuckin great time soon became lonely, dark, sad and tragic.

I always said that if I crossed certain boundaries I’d stop. I crossed every boundary I ever set, I just kept pushing the boundaries back. The truth is, I couldn’t stop. I didnt know how.

I cant quite recall when it happened but I found myself spending little on clothes, if at all, to tryin to get as much money as possible to shove up my beak.

I found myself leaving the pub early to sneak home and sit myself. I eventually found myself not even wanting to go out. Didn’t want to socialise. I just wanted to sit myself and snort Charlie. Tragic but unable to stop.

Powerless to stop.

My life had also become unmanageable. Disastrous life choice after life choice would follow. One wrong relationship after another, another failed attempt to control the addiction. Suicide!

Even after my suicide attempt in 2019 it wasn’t enough for me to stop.

They say ecstasy interrupted the casual scene in the late 80s, early 90s. Cocaine revived it, allowed it to play out a wee bit past its sell by date.

For me, the lad who would peacock about town, now 12 steps in recovery.

If any of this sounds familiar. If ye can identify, then reach out!

Keep on, keepin on!