Coda: Beginnings

When I was 11 years old, I gained a place at Wilson's Grammar School in South London. Many of my friends who also passed the 11 plus exam were given a bicycle by their parents; my parents bought me a ‘Lotts Chemistry Set’. That turned out to be a much better investment and provided such an inspiration that I was soon determined to become a scientist. By the time I was 14, my father had set up a laboratory for me in a corner of his large garden workshop. That had mains electricity, water and gas, and I was able to buy a generous amount of glassware and other equipment. Not only did I repeat the practical sessions from my school chemistry classes, but I could go much further.

Sourcing chemicals presented no problems. My local pharmacy was able to sell me most of what I needed, whether that was nitric acid, benzene or all manner of what we would now recognise as harmful substances. The pharmacist was only concerned that I should not try to make fireworks. In those days, the notion of health and safety was not something to which any of us, either at home or school, paid much attention. Some of the school experiments and demonstrations stay with me as vivid memories such as when my chemistry teacher, a Mr Dash, dissolved white phosphorus in carbon disulfide and then poured it over a large mass of cotton wool held in a clamp stand. Within seconds, the whole mass caught fire – the self-igniting Molotov cocktail. And no one gave a thought to the cloud of phosphorus pentoxide that hung over us.

With GCE ‘O’ Levels looming, I was told that there would always be a question on the paper about how one would make various gases. I was soon making hydrogen and oxygen by electrolysis, chlorine and many more gases. In one of those sessions, the atmosphere in my garden laboratory was so damaging that some of my father's tools became corroded, but I don't recall that he was too annoyed. And in thinking of gases, Mr Dash assured me that a true chemist could always distinguish the smell of hydrogen chloride from that of sulfur dioxide. I never could tell the difference and those attempts at sniffing such toxic substances may be why my sense of smell is now so poor.

Even though I had the wherewithal in those early days to synthesise many organic compounds, the thought of creating psychoactive substances never crossed my mind. Indeed, an interest in drugs would not arise until much later when I joined the pharmaceutical industry. The only activity that came close to being illicit was the distillation of fermented fruit juice, but the fiery liquid produced was just a poor quality brandy.

It is unlikely that what I did then could be done these days; and perhaps just as well. I was lucky to survive the many hazards from occasional fires, poisonous gases, electric shocks and other events, all without any protective equipment. A few years later, my youngest brother, Mike, gained a scholarship to read chemistry at Exeter College, Oxford. I like to think I might have inspired him. Eventually I met a girl who later became my wife. She was also a chemistry student, which I am sure was part of the attraction.