I was surprised at the strong smell of marijuana smoke that wafted across Lord’s during the West Indies test match last week. Although there were occasional, passing whiffs throughout the ground, it was in the Coronation Gardens, where the psychedelically blazered MCC members and their friends meet for epic piss-ups, that distinct gusts of weed smoke were most evident.
I cannot think of a more law-abiding community than cricket lovers
The drug of choice for members is traditionally something from Reims or Burgundy. The new generation and their friends are clearly looking more to Jamaica, Afghanistan and rural Sussex for their selection of inebriant. I assume the barristers, city gents and assorted thespians in attendance knew this but what was so surprising was that no-one said a word. Was this stiff upper lip?
I’ve been aware of the smell of weed in the streets of American cities for some time, particularly in New York which I visit frequently. The Americans have been at it for more than a decade and cannabis for personal consumption is legal in 24 states and decriminalised in a further seven. In New York City, weed can be smoked anywhere a cigarette smoker is allowed to light up. There are also shops across Manhattan selling pre-rolled joints and edibles (cannabis-infused sweets), so dope has become pretty much part of the city’s daily life. And while I’m all for liberalisation I’m not sure the accompanying odour of high-octane skunk is to my taste. I find it overpowering and noxious.
I grew up amid variations of that smell in my university years in South Africa in the late 1960s and smoked quite a few joints myself. I attended Natal University as it was then called (now the University of KwaZulu-Natal) and the local weed was called Durban Poison. It had a reputation among dope smokers throughout the hippie world, so much so that Steve Marriott’s Humble Pie referred to it in song lyric, to the joy of Durban’s dope-smoking community. In those days international recognition of anything South African was rare.
DP, as it was commonly known, was very cheap and widely available. However, in stern Nationalist government-run apartheid South Africa, this was a risky indulgence and the spectre of Colonel Basie Smit and his Drug Squad was ever present. You did not want to be busted by Basie and his men. Nevertheless, we smoked the stuff, had a high old time and still graduated with decent degrees.
Thus, the sweet smell of DP is part of my olfactory hinterland. I remember going to the Rainbow Theatre in Finsbury Park in the 1970s to see Bob Marley and the Wailers and the cloud of DP smoke that hung in the stalls was so pervasive that you got high just sitting in your seat breathing normally.
Cut to modern times and the legalisation of marijuana has been rolling through not only America but also Europe. This year Germany became one of a long list of European countries (the Netherlands, Austria, Luxembourg, Malta and more) to legalise cannabis for personal use. Across Europe recreational weed smoking is now legal and broadly tolerated, with the UK being the notable exception. Successive British governments have been clear that there are no plans to legalise cannabis. The official line is that ‘there is clear scientific and medical evidence that cannabis is a harmful drug which can damage people’s mental and physical health, and harms individuals and communities.’ Here the maximum penalty for possession is five years’ imprisonment, and a magistrate can impose a fine of £2,000.
All of which makes indifference to the wafting cannabis clouds at Lord’s even more baffling. I cannot think of a more law-abiding community than cricket lovers and yet here they were standing around drinking and yakking away at the home of cricket without taking any notice of the skunk smell. Were the members too pissed to notice?
This indifference may change in the coming years as the malingering odours become more commonplace in our streets and public places. In America the backlash has begun with fed up citizens complaining to city officials and even taking their neighbours to court. Tom Harris, president of New York’s Times Square Alliance, says that there are now regular complaints from tourists about the smell. ‘It’s like Cheech and Chong out there. And guess what? It’s legal.’ And in Washington, DC, a 76-year-old woman sued her adjoining neighbour, claiming she was made ill by the smell. The defendant, a restaurant manager, responded by saying that he only had a couple of puffs of marijuana each night to ease his pain and sleeplessness. ‘I’m not Snoop Dog,’ he said. She won. Perhaps the West Indies Test match will be remembered not for Gus Atkinson’s remarkable 12 for 106, but for the day weed came to Lord’s. The tipping point may have been reached. And no-one seemed to notice.
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