Published: 19 January, 2012
by JOHN GULLIVER

HESITANTLY, she stood outside the chemists.   

Then she strode inside, past the jewellery counter, past the shelves of toothpaste, deodorants, cough mixtures... until she got to the main counter where medicine is prescribed.

The pharmacist called her to one side, only a few words were exchanged, and then he gave her a small phial containing green, sickly looking stuff which she gulped down, pulling an ugly face.

She was one of 60 drug addicts a day who call in at this particular chemist in Camden for their daily fix of methadone.

It happens to be a chemist I have used for years but it was only the other day that the pharmacist – quite accidentally – mentioned his methadone run.

Of the 60 addicts who wind their way into his premises, 30 are “supervised” – that is, watched as the dose is swallowed, and recorded.

The other 30 are given their “drink” in little green phials to take home for consumption Everything has to be tightly regulated, with proof downloaded to the clinic responsible for the addict’s medication.

At the first visit the addict even has to be fingerprinted by the chemist to keep within regulations.

Several years ago only two or three addicts a day were on the chemist’s list.

“It’s getting worse,’ he sighed. “I don’t know the cause – what can you say,  probably family breakdown.

“Sometimes, I talk to them, to give them some hope.

The problem is they have no one to talk to.

Who do they mix with all day?

Usually, other addicts.

It is such a terrible cycle.

But they are usually very well behaved though sometimes they get out of control, and attempt to steal things.

“They come from all different backgrounds, high and low.  Occasionally, their parents will see me and offer compensation for anything stolen – you can see the misery on their faces.”

For you or me, an encounter with an addict is rare. Perhaps you will see one in the street, and more than likely try and avoid him or her.

But the pharmacist I have known for many years sees 60 of them every day.

Imagine, the despair on so many faces, every day, the same faces.

Knowing him, I didn’t think he would ever have got hardened enough not to be affected.

I was right. His brow furrowed, he started talking about his own family.

He was more aware than ever how important it was to remain close to his sons – both at university – so that whatever was laying waste to the people who came into his chemists would pass him by.

He is a professional man, with a London university pharmacy degree, but has become caught up in a dirty world simply out of his duty to the clinic run by the NHS. It’s a world you and I don’t see much of – but it is out there, proof that the war on drugs isn’t being won.