Sebastian Wocker with his book, The Joy of Addiction

MOST people only manage to live one life during their time on Earth. However, Sebastian Wocker managed to fit several into the first 22 years of his, according to his book The Joy of Addiction.

From touring Europe with a production of the musical Hair when just 18, to mixing with top bands and touring with his own, the book gives a rip-roaring account of the highs and lows of his early adulthood, all underpinned and plagued by addiction to drugs and alcohol.

Sebastian’s a towering figure in Hampstead, quite literally as his 6ft 7ins frame looms over most people when walking around the village. But the book charts him thieving from friends and family to buy drugs and drink, getting into fights, sleeping with prostitutes and even marching on Margaret Thatcher’s Downing Street and spending time in the cells over Westminster Tube station. All before many people his age from Hampstead would be emerging bright-eyed into the world from university.

His descent into drug use began at Hampstead School. Feeling he never fitted in, he started smoking marijuana, before moving on to cocaine and amphetamines. Trips to New York, where he hung out with top bands, didn’t help. To try and kick his habit, he’d go on one of his “geographicals”, touring around America or Europe, seeking brief respite before trying out the drugs market in whichever town he found himself in. He first took cocaine at a Pink Floyd gig in Earl’s Court in 1979 aged 14.

He told the Review that he felt it was important to give an honest account of addiction, which included the highs as much as the lows, but did not think it glorified it.

“It seduces you. Of course it’s exciting, you’re young, you think you’re indestructible at that age. It seduces you then it turns around and smacks you in the face.

“If I was to only write about the bad bits, but not include the good bits, you’re not being honest with yourself. There were fantastic times I had while I was using. But when you’re an addict, those are so outweighed by the misery. I’m having so many more fantastic times clean, it just doesn’t add up to do it.

“The reason I called it the Joy of Addiction is that I’m glad I’ve got it, but I know I’m not going to suffer from it any more. I’m glad I’m an addict, moreover I’m glad I’m a recovering addict. I wouldn’t want to be a using addict again for anything in the world.”

The 300-page book’s chapters skip along as snapshot vignettes of his life as an addict. Names of places and characters have been changed, Wellington Walk is Well Walk, for example, but those in Hampstead in the 1980s will recognise many of the pubs and people involved.

He finally went into recovery in 1987, after a regular nightly binge went very wrong when he took ecstasy as well as his usual cocktail of drugs.

“I got clean because I was scared.” He pauses. “I was scared of dying. I freaked out. I felt really weak, really feeble and scared. It suddenly dawned on me that my Dad had died, and it could happen to me. I got home and my heart was beating like f***, and I thought this was it, I was in sweats, I thought I was going to have a heart attack, this was after seven years of caning it.

“You heard about people on the news who had died and I thought ‘s***, that is going to be me’.”

He added: “It was the slap in the face. I think like any addict that has been at it for a while, I’d hit loads of rock bottoms. I could have survived that and carried on, but that was where I said ‘Yes, I’ll change’ and I meant it.”

He’d had an abortive attempt to attend a 12-step programme, going to an event in Weston-Super-Mare before being spooked and ending up in a pub. His mother had already sought help. After his ecstasy experience, he goes to recovery at the old Citizens Advice Bureau offices in Oriel Place, and gets his head together. In his first recovery meeting, he was told by a member to go to 90 meetings in 90 days. He did and he got clean, something that lasted for seven-and-a-half years.

“I liked the meetings and I liked the people that I met there, and I felt like I belonged. Belonging to something, it felt like I could enjoy it and it was good.

“It gives you that focus. But unless you want it, nothing is going to hap­pen. It’s you that gets you into that chair, it’s you that takes on that service for others, these little attainable steps to work towards and to achieve. You get this moment where you’re sharing with someone else who doesn’t know what to do what you did, and they get some­thing from it, and you feel such energy from it.”

The book opens “If this book helps one addict get clean and stay clean, it’s been a worthwhile exercise”.

It’s a noble aim. His book is a brave one, unsurprisingly so for somebody who has faced up to addiction and sought recovery, and for non-addicts it’s a great insight into the mind of those regularly using. Hopefully his ambition is achieved.

• The Joy of Addiction: Confessions of a Teenage Wastrel. By Sebastian Wocker. HAVIVO Publishing, £9.99