Delicatessen

[ I may get into trouble with some of you here. You’ll think I’m promoting the drug culture. I’m not. But plants that change the way you see the world have been with us as long as people have been around. Sure there’s stuff like heroin and crack, to name just the obvious ones, that are a horrific blot on humankind’s ability to reach for the stars. And alcohol and tobacco that for some bizarre reason are ‘ok’ drugs even though they do nothing but harm to you. And these days, probably over half the population of the world has smoked cannabis, without turning into drug crazed zombie living dead-heads.

This is a tale of university days as a bunch of good-time guys and girls, a time of fun. None of my friends went on to become crack addicts, in fact we all became graduate professional dudes. Admittedly I did drive a Porsche at quite an early age, which probably made me look like a drug dealer!]

Delicatessen 

Some people say the old-fashioned term ‘scooby snacks’ was used to describe cookies etc containing …well, take yer pick… hashish, grass, mushrooms blah blah blah. Anything that’s going to change your day. When I was at Uni, we didn’t have that term… we just got delightfully stoned then got ‘the munchies’…. that uncontrollable urge to eat the contents of the fridge. These days the term ‘scoobie-snack’ enjoys a revival amongst some of my friends, but we use it to describe nothing more suspicious than a tasty snackette to be enjoyed with a cup of afternoon tea.

Ok. Good. That’s got the terminology straight.

Talking of straight, I don’t touch a thing these days. No drugs, no alcohol. Got sick of the downside be it a hangover, or the depression that comes after the elation of a drug high. More importantly, being stoned or tripped out got in the way of my being able to focus, concentrate, consistently move into the world beyond ideas where the high is …pristine, a clarity not possible, except for perhaps a moment, on drugs. Many will argue otherwise, that’s my personal experience.

Don’t get me wrong, I have great memories from those times, which I treasure. We had lovely mellow hashish… floatingly light Lebanese, wickedly sensual Afghan black, maybe a tweak of opium to send you into reverie and fantastic dreams. Or smokey-sweet grass full of resin-oozing flower heads which demanded that we get on the top deck of a London night bus, up at the front, and go cruising across the river into the nighttime West End just laughing, giggling at everything.

We had stuff to do though, we all wanted to get our degrees, and we all wanted to make music with a passion…. too much dope turns you into one and I saw many people from those times who became zombie living dead without realising it.

[ My brief encounter with very strong modern-day weed, in an Amsterdam coffee bar with my woman, even though I got the weakest stuff they had, it had us completely bombed within seconds…really unpleasant. I guess you must get pretty scrambled brains as a regular user. Or turn into a fucking psychopath.]

Here’s a little musical offering harking back to those days, living in Brixton, south London, where the cool people lived. Suddenly realising in the middle of a stoned evening that we had to put on our shoes & socks, head out into downtown Brixton in search of scoobies…. lets go….

The piano and voice reverb setting is deliberate, to give that ‘in-yer-face’ honky-tonk sound.

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