Archive for the ‘Drugs’ Category

Royal Hotel, Purfleet, Essex   Leave a comment

 

The dress code at the Royal Hotel concerned me.  I was dirty and sweaty and wearing sweatpants with paint on them and a tear in one leg.  I removed my cricket cap and hoped for the best.  I realised that I  needn’t have worried when I reached the garden:

 

 

The view of the Thames was obstructed, just after this photo, when a young man brought his beer out and stood on the far side of the wall to crush up a bud of skunk (trust me, you could smell the loveliness back in the City).  Three of his buddies showed up and one started doing the same while another went in for drinks.  They snorted something off the fourth one’s nails.  The bartender came down to help deliver the drinks as the first spliff was lit.  I remembered that the line, “drug use will not be tolerated,” was missing from the dress code sign.  Anyway, they were technically off the property, and they seemed like good boys.

 

 

I nodded to one of the lads as I left.  Various forms of ‘have a good day,’ and ‘see you around,’ were offered.  Like I said, good boys.  There is hope for the youf of today.

Posted May 27, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Drugs, Pubs

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Treasures from Trumpministan   1 comment

 

Jackie returned safely from the Undignified Stupidity of America safe, sound, and because it is so hard to find decent food there a few pounds lighter.  She also — as usual — brought tequila (despite the new wall stretching the entire length of the border with Mexico) and Goody’s!  She is the best.

 

Posted May 25, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Booze, Drugs

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OTC Medications   Leave a comment

beechams-fake-goodies

Sick all weekend and most of Monday, I sought out some relief at Superdrug where the closest thing to a Goody’s powder I’ve seen over here caught my eye.  Beechams are VERY disappointing: they’re FLAVOURED and, moreover, it’s with some sort of anise essence and a sweetener (Goody’s taste like caffeine, aspirin, and acetaminophen like God intended).  Vile concoction.

I also got some nasal spray.  I chose this one because I think every third person you meet in Alabama, Georgia, or South Carolina has an Aunt Otrivine:

 

otrivine

Posted October 24, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in Drugs, Made Me Laugh

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Bob Dylan Nobel Prize in Literature Pub Crawl, preview   5 comments

bob-and-beer

I have started — but, never finished — The Magic Mountain annually for over 30 years. I did lighting once for a student production of Strange Interlude but whenever I hear the title I think of Groucho Marx. But, as Nobel Prize Winners in Literature go, Bob Dylan holds a place in my heart that the others can never approach. I have attended literally dozens of his shows, some of them actually good and two or three of them among the best experiences of my life.

So there I was, no shit, when an email arrives from Jackie with the subject, “this is not a joke.” Inside, it had two lines which read

“Bob just won the Lit Nobel,” and
“Sooo boring at work today.”

Assuming she’d been reading some parody website, I replied,

Ain’t it just like the web
To play tricks
When the library’s
So quiet.”

She shot back,

No, no, no,
It ain’t fake, babe.”

I checked it out and the ridiculous and sublime Bob-head had actually been elevated to Nobel Laureate. I came into work an hour and a half early and had toiled through lunch so I didn’t think twice (it’s alright) to leave a half hour early to find a bar with either an appropriate soundtrack or some other Dylanesque trait.

My train arrived in Hammersmith at sunset. It was time for my boot heels to be wandering. The first stop would be the Queen’s Head (approximately).  The quest continued at the Jameson and the Bird in Hand before a most remarkable success at the Havelock Tavern.

****************

Sort of related, I seem to reference Bob in these pages more than any other writer or musician:

A photo that looks like the cover of “Bringin’ It All Back Home”


Quoting “On the Road Again” in re: a trip to the States
Quoting “Outlaw Blues” for a Toronto Mayor’s obituary
Quoting “Like A Rolling Stone” in my Citizenship announcement
A tourist trip past the site where the film version of Subterranean Homesick Blues was shot

Subterranean Homesick Blues 2
A plethora of Dylan lyrics for a house move post
A weird one about the move from Cambridge Uni to the U of Oxford
Nudity, beer, and a tiger refuge in Tennessee


Mis-heard lyrics from “On the Road Again”

And, “Bringin’ it All Back Home,” again, on a birthday run write-up

Posted October 14, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in art, Books and Movies, Drugs, music

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“The Slug and Whip-It” is the new house bar   2 comments

Slug and Whip-It Ruislip sign hanging

It was the Public Bar of the Drunken Bunny in Swindon but the new digs means that, as we start preparing the bar for the Autumn Drinking Season, we are also going with a new name.  This time, it is

The Slug and Whip-It

because that’s the primary debris I see on the walk to the Underground station every morning.  Garden parasites and hippy crack, literally, but I also like the puns: a ‘slug‘ as a unit of alcoholic measure and the iconic working class dog.

Posted September 1, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in 1PumpLane, Booze, Drugs, Made Me Laugh

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Drops, Acid   Leave a comment

acid drops

Picking up the morning paper in the shop run by the Yoda-like woman, I noticed these sweets on the shelf (“acid drops, he does,” would be the troll-Jedi phrasing).  I was similarly amused about Old English Mince when this popped into my head:

Humphries

Old English Mince, indeed.

Posted May 15, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in Drugs, Made Me Laugh

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Jimi at the Atlanta Pop Fest, Byron, GA, July 1970   Leave a comment

Edie likes Jimi

I was eight years old and my family had just moved to a former fishing camp my dad bought about 6 miles outside Griffin Georgia (which is to say 10 miles from the middle of nowhere and quite the asshole of the Universe).  My sister was ferrile, but as my folks were going back to Atlanta to clear out an apartment (we had moved from Hawaii in the spring) they entrusted her with my care for the day.  She then stole their other car and loaded me up to go camping with some of her friends.

300,000 of her friends, as it turned out.  We went to the misnamed Atlanta International Pop Festival at the Byron Raceway another 60 miles south from our new house.

 

atlanta intl pop

 

She also loaded up some records hoping to get some autographed.  One, in particular, was Are You Experienced which she left on some grass outside our tent.  Dew covered, some microdots melted on it resulting in the stains.  She considered the album ruined and gave it to me; I still love the record and have laughed my ass off watching every friend to whom I have related this history over the last 45 years lick the cover.

 

This record has been experienced

Sadly, that’s what I remember of the show — I was only eight years old and overwhelmed by the crowd and excited to be camping in south Georgia nearly where I was born but also exotic to me as I hadn’t been ‘home’ since I was in swaddling clothes.  I knew it was noisy and there were a bunch of stinky hippies everywhere, but nothing about the musical line up registered at all nor would it have made any difference to me had it done.

So, this past weekend I put on what I thought was a straightforward Hendrix documentary called Electric Church (my cat loves Jimi) only to find that it was a concert film of his performance in Byron.  Jackie thought she’d be able to follow it by sound so I started while she mixed drinks in the other room.  The film opened with white text on a black screen describing the date and location and I stopped breathing.  Shit: I’ve been to a Hendrix concert.  Most of the other acts I would want to see (the Allman’s, BB King, Johnny Winter, Richie Havens) I eventually did, years later; others, I let slip by (including Grand Funk Railroad, Mott the Hoople, Procol Harum, Rare Earth, and Ten Years After).  I even worked with Colonel Bruce Hampton (Hampton Grease Band) in Atlanta briefly in the 80s.

I guess it means nothing, even less to non-fans.  To me — and, I’m sure, to those few of you out there who have left spittle on my Jimi record — it puts another piece in the puzzle.  Or something.