We keep paying for Tricky Dicky's looney legacy

Back in those heady (perhaps I mean crazy) days of early journalism, long before social media, I worked for a while on a right wing tabloid that liked nothing more – or little more – than mocking university students.

Why? I still don’t know, but mock anything to do with matters involving the campus was sure to get a story into print, and often with your very own byline.

Many of our current batch of politicians seem unquestioning about whether the dopy drugs policy is actually any help to society. And, likewise, I didn’t question the paper’s anti-youth attitude.

Drug devouring students

When Tricky Dicky’s drugs laws were accepted blindly by politicians, the chief reporter couldn’t wait to assign we eager beavers to our typewriters.

Suddenly wicked students were suddenly drug devouring students although our exposes probably had not the slightest notion of what was marijuana and what might be powdered drugs.

You mightn’t expect it, but even young reporters possess consciences, and after a few years the penny dropped, and the nonsense began to seem not much more than nonsense.

At the first opportunity I visited a country foolish enough not to have frenetic drugs laws.

They weren't going crazy

I landed in Kathmandu all prepared for the chaos I expected to see of a drug mad society. I saw the opposite.

Admittedly, in those days Nepal was packed with young Americans over there seemingly to taste Tricky Dicky’s forbidden fruits. But they weren't going crazy. Neat little shops, rather like chemists, sold the products. Experts were there to give advice. The prices were amazingly fair. Notices warned us against buying from itinerants.

Cafes offered hash cookies and much more and were really popular … and peaceful and orderly.

I learned during those few days about the nonsense of drugs.

The ghost of that sad leader was to get revenge for my learning. Years later, having moved on from journalism to sailing round the world solo, then nautical college to become a yachting professional, I was ambushed one day by English customs and charged with drug smuggling. Continues on the blogs for my ocean adventure book, Sailing to Purgatory, at SailingToPurgatory.com