30 th. December.

30/12/
2.23 p.m.
Just nicely got up in time to see the last of the hazy sun disappear.
Not too cold today so have put fire on to take chill away.
Knew I’d have a good sleep if I stopped up till tired and haven’t been disappointed.
Yesterday was a bit of a stressful day;

I always panic when car goes for test, mechanic reckons should get three years out of car and that’s all I could realistically ask for, will do me, if more then that’s a bonus.
May have to spend a little next year if it requires a new cat, but they aren’t too expensive for this model of car, a third of the price of my last car!
When I got home I filled up with petrol and decided to check the tyres after a bit of an incident when cornering.
Found all four tyres to be under inflated and two in single figures!
Handled better afterwards.
Must be more vigilant. Could have been dangerous.
How do I feel today? Well enough to miss meds.
When I first got up I thought about returning to bed and sleeping the afternoon away but knowing Saturday to be a poor night’s viewing may decide to tidy up when gets too dark to type.
So far the ending of the year has been pretty much as planned; inexpensive, stress free, mildly enjoyable and relaxed.
Who could ask for anything more?

Usually my haircut is left till the fine weather of spring approaches, it is seen to be my re- emergence from winter hibernation;
But this year I haven’t “cabined” up as severely as previous years so the emergence of a tidy looking self is more of a sign that I’m shaking off my old self.
I was going to grow my hair long but I cannot stand it being untidy and unmanageable.
I may even start to smarten myself up, who knows.
For some reason my teeth feel better today; they have been noticeable since my trip to the dentist in as much as they have been giving a dull ache, today they feel normal so will try to look after them more.
I did try the chemist yesterday for bottlebrushes but all I was offered was a brush for a baby’s bottle, hardly suitable for my teeth!
I have eaten very little lately; not starved just cut down dramatically, relying on meals at parents and sensible meals to see me through the week.
I did enjoy the Chinese meal and may have another go at their menu but will not make a habit of it.
I may be mistaken but I think I’m losing a little weight, my stomach no longer feels bloated and my appetite has subsided.
All I need now is exercise and rest.
If I simply spend most of the day time in my chair then retire to bed for a good length of sleep, it stands to reason the body will not require a great number of calories and indeed will burn sufficient to make a difference even though I’m inactive,
I try to keep the daily intake way below 2000 calories and hope to lose weight slowly by doing so.
I can lose weight quite dramatically; have been up to 18 stone and down to 14.
The initial inertia is generally the problem, once overcome and the results become clearly visible I easily shed pounds to achieve my desired weight.
Hopefully this coming year I’ll regain the level of weight with which I feel comfortable.
I may even go to a level I’ve previously thought impossible.
When I was in hospital I reached a weight of 13 st. 7 pounds,
A weight I’d never been for some thirty years;
if I can feel fitter and lose sufficient the incentive to lose even more will be strong.
I think I can manage it.
I know for certain I couldn’t cope with the apparent weight gain, which has crept upon me these last few months; (have put two stone on!).
I decided that the gain was due to the medication and having stopped it I’ve found I feel better.
Feeling well is out of the question but feeling better is a goal to reach for.
Minor changes can bring on this feeling and finding the right changes is the answer.

The rain returns as I tune into the guitar channel and listen to relaxing sounds.
I was sitting thus contemplating the alternative of watching Zulu.
I look through what I’ve just written, (something I seldom do!) and I come to the conclusion I’m a miserable sad bastard with only enough baccy for another rollie left.
A rare piece with lyrics comes on the radio.
I cannot understand the language but listen none the less to the doleful singing of a female; almost prayer like, her lilting voice forwards a sombre playing guitar.
I think right that’s it,
I must do something!

I now sit, fresh pouch of baccy, tall glass of lemonade at my side, guitar sounds playing softly, packet of joint papers, and a
Sufficient quantity of grass, which has been promised to do the job.

I had called into the dealers prior to going to the shop and made a deal, in return I had purchased a £10 Virgin, something I’ve never known in all my 50 years!
I sit writing this because I had a tester at his place, only a few draws but enough for me to appreciate the taste.
I realised when driving to the shop that this deal may have to be treated with a little respect.
If the price was anything to go by the gear should deserve a lot of respect,
but you can never tell from the price.

And it’s a price to pay for leaving the New Year shopping till late.
I decide to adopt my usual strategy and lightly load the first one.
I know for a fact that a heavily loaded one would leave me incapable of typing and probably send me back to bed.
I break to prepare.

Judging by the amount, each joint is going to be in the region of £5.00 each,
I hope the stone is worth it.
I draw deeply and almost immediately my neck begins to stiffen then relax.
I try one through the fist.
Doubt creeps into my mind, but fades as the music and third draw brings on a full body relax.
I move my feet to a more comfortable position and the sounds go off, but after a brief pause they return.
Not too many typing mistakes so far.
I take a deep relaxing breath in and breathe out fully before inhaling deeply upon the joint.
I’m relaxing!
I turn the sounds up a notch or two.
There is still the seed of doubt that the taste is different ever so slightly to the tester.
Maybe just memories of dealing.

Often the dealer would return home after the pubs had shut at night to find a house full of partly intoxicated customers, some of whom would also be stoned.
The dealer would sit, L.P. on knee dividing up the purchase,
Each customer would get up, approach and collect his gear.
The bag was always offered open; each customer would take out a pinch of his purchase and place it on the corner of the L.P. cover.
There was no set limit and each offering was as generous as the person was feeling.
By the time some 15 to 20 people had donated there was often quite a pile.
I then proceeded to roll up the pile while someone was designated in charge of the sounds, orange juice was prepared and everyone was warned not to touch the Wurlitzer in the corner.
If the pile warranted it and if I was in the mood, I’d roll a couple of helicopters and they were passed around eagerly.
Many a circle joined together, silently joined by sympathetic thoughts.
Its aim to make the novice burn his cheeks!
I’m enjoying the memories as much as the sounds.
Dependent on the size of the pile the customers lingered till smokes were finished.
There was usually a heavy period then when I joked about charging for the copious amounts of orange being consumed by some members of the circle. (Usually the Newbies), most took the hint and left.
Then there would be perhaps four or five left.
It was usually time for nibbles and a couple of raids would be carried out on the kitchen.
A selection of records would be chosen and each person would start to roll a couple up.
Serious smoking began.
Often with the surprise of me displaying a different type of dope that I’d withheld from the rest.
Sensi nights!

Daylight would find us talking away in the periods between semi unconscious silences.
If the majority had gone to sleep by the time morning come, and if the sounds had finished and no one noticed!
I would skin up and play with my favourite toy.
I had been lent a synthesizer and I loved the range of sounds,
I soon learnt to produced my fake dawn chorus, sounded well.
I loved copying a space ship taking off then mixing it with some thing akin to silver machine, gradually increasing the volume.
Some of these sessions, once began would continue till dinner time, by which time all had left;
destined to meet again the following Friday.
I remember once, I took the synth down to the local church where a band practised.
They graciously put my machine through their amps while they collected their gear.
I got stuck in with the space ship launch and used every ounce of power the Amp had.
Customers in the pub next door and several residents came out into the street to see what was happening!

Opposite my house was a chip shop; quite a busy one;
queues outside were a familiar sight.
Often they’d be treated to music from the Wurlitzer which had quite a mean output of it’s own.
I am coping with typing, despite making errors and having to use lamplight,
Break for a joint as the jaunty rhythm of a Spanish guitar inspires me into action.
Feet dancing up and down to the beat, whilst tapping out the drum rhythm.
A bongo solo comes on and the feet still!
I now have to use fresh baccy for joint, which is not desirable.
I light up and see myself now as a whisky lover would drink good malt.
Expensive; but hopefully worth it in the end.
A solo comes on, sounds like a lullaby and I struggle to relax too much.
Little fucking Donkey is the tune!
Now a fast finger picking, foot-tapping piece emerges.
And my attention is instantly captured.
My type of blues guitar playing follows and I ‘m loving it but all too soon the flute takes centre stage and, multi octave finger picking takes over.
A particularly scratchy base line intercedes momentarily before the tune returns to the high strings, accompanied by deep base guitars.
I take a drink of lemonade and applaud myself for forsaking the beer.

In those days “suppliers” were few and any procurement involved travelling.
Also for the small number of “forwarders” who were generally known on first name terms by the local newly formed, over eager drug squad.
Cars had to be changed, often twice weekly, the previously used car, if possible being taken out in the opposite direction.
Without having the use of the keys to customers cars booked into a local garage I could never have got away with quite such a degree of non detection.
I had gone from a simple cultivator who got sick of being constantly harassed to a dealer, albeit it small time!
I soon realised the importance of not stepping on anyone’s toes; each person had a range of operations, certain towns belonged to certain people etc. any encroachment on territory was frowned upon!
Very different to the situation today when anyone who has a wad thinks they can become a dealer!

A singer is singing, “on and on the rain will fall, on and on it will pour as we forget how fragile We are,”
Certainly took its toll this year with the amount of flood damage and tragic loss of life.
Must be horrific when them mudslides start!

Joint finished and am feeling a little disappointed but perhaps I’m mistaking ease of typing for lack of stone?
When perhaps it could be increase in concentration?
Sounds are really keeping my attention today.
I ease my back and gently move neck to sway of music.
Pain and discomfort battle it out to be supreme, eventually they reach a truce and my neck sinks into an unsure degree of relaxation;
cramp in one part is tolerated if for the relief of the greater part.
Occasionally these small parts, belts of pain cry out for attention and I’m forced to concentrate on the muscle concerned and relax it by any means possible.
I take the opportunity to swing neck muscles from side to side as I spell check.
Not working so I lay back in my chair allowing support for heavy neck.
I take time out.
Heaviness had fell to shoulders and neck wobbles slowly in an effort to find a secure position of support.
A position in which it actually Feels attached to rest of body.
Often not an easy position to find, so when located is enjoyed, sometimes surprisingly so!
Deep breath, several more.
I stretch my neck forward trying to figure out the most painful position then return to that one and try to relieve tension, invariably tension.
I take my left hand and begin to massage my neck; the warmth of my hand is felt.
I work on the knotted muscles and inflict as much pressure as is signalled needed to match the level of pain.
If you take a pain to its limit purposely you eventually cancel out the pain.
Sounds crazy but often works.

I sip delicately at the cold, flat lemonade, keeping the fluid in my mouth and circling it around my teeth before smacking my lips tightly together before and after swallowing.
First sign of possible attack of munchies is trying to eat one’s own lips;
biting sometimes-huge strips off dried lips.
Leaving lips susceptible to further erosion from the roach of the next joint.
Spliffing idea!
I momentarily question the idea, fingers playing over the keys in the time of a slowly picked tune.
I return with a deep breath and prepare the makings.

I smoked joint with eyes shut for the duration, listening to every single note and sound.
A few extreme stretches of the neck and I remained most of time relaxed for the most part, with head to one side;
The pain balanced by the amount of pleasure I was getting from orchestrating the music with my right foot!
I sit mimicking the maracas, arm movements to the shaking, body muscle groups relating to the different components of the sound.

Now you’re thinking, “He’s stoned”.
I pause to contemplate.
Am I?
If I was really stoned I wouldn’t be able to type all this with a reasonable element of enjoyment,
If the level of mistakes had been to high then I would. Being stoned, have rebelled against the hassle.
Decision time!
A time every solitary smoker reaches,

Do I mellow out at this level or try and attain, If possible, an attainable higher level?
Dry mouth once again quenched with as much respect for liquid as would have been shown from someone receiving a drink in the desert.
My neck launches a surprise attack and I hopelessly move it around in an attempt to find a more “comfortable” position.

I now get some indication of the amount of written work I destroyed when I got rid of hard disk!
I think back to the “old days” and I’ll swear the home grown I produced was better than anything I’ve bought recently and I’m talking 30 years ago.
Fits of giggles, periods of silence, and munchies, all guaranteed!
Hell, you can’t afford to share around nowadays the price is too high.
No more helping your self to the two-ounce pack on the table.
Beside which; when you get older you can no longer tolerate conversation while listening to music; often initiated in times of greatest concentration on sounds.
A Solitary smoker is by nature usually a miserable sod that has decided that his “bread and butter” association
Is “dope and sounds "then??
He will take all necessary precautions to ensuring maximum experience,
be that experience stoned or straight.
I think; I cannot blame the meds for the lack of high this time!
I draw ever deeply as I near the roach, my chest expanding, breathing deeply trying to usher in a higher, apparently unreachable, stone.
Neck partially collapses; gave me quite a rush in an enjoyable, I think, way.
Frightening at times to a point of respect, you remember the worst/best so far.
Sometimes the rush induces feelings of nausea.
Stone inches itself higher and my head rolls forward, stretching the previously tight muscles in my neck, sparks off a feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It’s at this point in time when many Newbies begin to feel unwell!

You get the ones that puke! Others moan while describing their pain.
You know that this feeling is a sign that you have reached another level but the road ahead is uncertain!
You may reach yet another plane but run the risk of it going wrong and you end up feeling worse and actually vomiting quite a lot!
And you know full well if you run that risk and fail!
You will be straight again after vomiting;
Another reason to learn to cope with the signs and realise you can cope. Given time.
Thoughts of food float through my mind, I realise I’d considered several options for munchies based on time to make available for consumption.
The munchies ease the feelings of being unwell by providing comfort from the mere thought of food.