“What’s in the box?”

by Pseud O'Nym

As is clear from my blog, I’m in the process of packing things up and preparing to move house. And as also clear from this blog, I am finding this process incredibly difficulties. One of the main difficulties occurred yesterday afternoon when I was packing my Christmas holiday box. Moving, it seems, is moving.

But the real kicker came when I was putting the drugs and the one’s I want are not the one’s I will need into the box.. It was a bit like ‘Se7en’, but without the head. Obviously. What you want in it isn’t, and what I don’t want in there is. The one’s I need are prescription drugs for my depression and to combat high blood pressure. The argument that the best way to combat my high blood pressure would be for people not to annoy me and thus negate the need for blood pressure medication is not a universally welcome idea. The one’s I want are wanted now more than ever, but one of the problems with getting older is that you no longer know someone who knows someone who can sell you some drugs.

I remember Christmas Day in 1993 – or was it 1994?, It’s all a bit hazy, anyway, they point is I was living in Brixton close to Coldharbour Lane and I had popped out to the shops to get something. Milk probably. In the course of a five minute walk to the shops I was offered hash by three different drug dealers and I thought ‘What a testament to entrepreneurialism.’  Here were hard working drug dealers plying their trade on Christmas Day, sure in the knowledge that people will have grossly underestimated their holiday stash and will need extra supplies. They had identified a need and were there to meet it. Fortunately, my own stash was nowhere near running out.

But those days are long gone. Gone are the days when getting the drugs in for Christmas would involve a copious amount of skunk, possibly some ecstasy, and if I was very lucky some magic mushrooms.

I remember those days.

Well actually I don’t, that’s how good they were.