HAVING lived a year in Amsterdam and socialised with a wide variety of strange and wonderful people in my time, I’ve probably turned down more joints than I’ve been offered hot dinners.

I grew up in the ‘just say no’ era and I grew up in Middlesbrough, a place even now sadly blighted by problems around substance misuse.

The echoes of my formative years float around my brain, along with drug-addled anecdotes from relatives working in psychiatric care, looking after those irreparably damaged by drug use.

On a subconscious level, I’m conditioned to just say no and probably always will — on a rational, reasonable level, I find myself changing my mind, renegotiating my boundaries with every story I write on the issue, every person I meet.

Nothing could, or should, negate the experiences of those struggling with cannabis misuse and those who have cared for them or suffered alongside them.

However, there are other voices that are beginning to be heard nationwide and, getting louder by the day, they’re arguing with a conviction increasingly difficult to oppose.

Thanks to bold drugs reformers on the right side of the law, like Durham Chief Constable Mike Barton and Police and Crime Commissioner Ron Hogg, and those defiantly on the wrong side, the tide is turning.

There will always be those who struggle with addiction, who consume to excess, be it cannabis, booze, fags, heroin or food. And there will always be those who suffer alongside them — families, spouses and the medical and charitable organisations that shoulder the strain of their battle.

But to focus solely on their stories in the great cannabis debate is to almost wilfully ignore those consuming it on a day-to-day basis.

Whether recreationally or medicinally, millions of people use marijuana. It’s the most commonly used drug in the UK aside from alcohol and tobacco.

Keeping it illegal does little to stem its use, instead working to thrust users into a lifestyle few would otherwise choose, consorting with dealers, breaking the law and ingesting unregulated, potentially dangerous, substances.

John Holliday, the founder of Teesside Cannabis Club, insists that the deadly black market can, and should, be wiped out with decriminalisation for personal use. With 36 cannabis-related convictions and a tendency to flout the law, Holliday could be jailed at any point. He’s undaunted at the prospect, as is the palliative-care nurse with terminal cancer I met this week.

She spent years watching patients fade away, battling cancer with traditional medicine. She was determined not to die that way. A daily gram of cannabis oil convinced her she will arrive at the end of her life with dignity and strength. When I ask her how she feels about breaking the law, she laughs, says she will fight for ever for decriminalisation.

“We all take drugs,” she says, “and I’d love to see the police take my medicine.”

We must listen, debate and work to keep users safe. If that means seriously considering legalisation, so be it. As history proves, prohibition doesn’t work.