Posts Tagged ‘British Weather’

Divine Protection

On Monday it was pissing down. I left the house with my wellies on and my Martin Gerrard umbrella but the wind was so strong that I abandoned the brolly and the only part of me that stayed dry were my feet. Waitrose were out of crumble mix, so I walked up the road to Sainsburys – I know it’s only flour, sugar and butter but I just prefer it in a packet – sadly, the ingredients on the Sainsburys version did not look fit for human consumption. I then walked to Tesco, two miles in the opposite direction. Once you’re soaked to the skin, you can’t get any wetter and it was a really great walk, battling against the elements. As I walked down to Finchley Central, an estate agent’s board came crashing down off the side of a shop in front of me, like really fucking close. Once at Tesco I managed to get the mix and I picked up a chocolate log (something I do love about Christmas, along with Christmas lunch chez La Poppette). As I waded home I was almost hit by a lump of falling masonry. ‘It didn’t touch me’, I shouted to a bunch of people standing outside a Turkish grocer’s shop, who all turned when I screamed, ‘The lord is watching over me!’ For the duration of the walk home I stuck to the kerb, away from the buildings. As I plodded along, I started to ponder the meaning of life and how everything can change in just a moment, like just popping out for a packet of crumble and getting fatally hit on the head by falling debris. I also wondered how people manage to light their fags and actually smoke them in a storm, because my lighter wouldn’t light and my spliff was soaked through.





My hands have been giving me a lot of trouble during this endless cold weather. I originally thought that I was suffering from chilblains but I think it’s something more serious than that. My fingertips have been turning white and going numb, taking minutes for the blood to return to them, really unpleasant. Today my hands feel a lot better than they have done for a while, although there does seem to be less feeling in them. This is particularly worrying me because last week it was really difficult to type and I had loads of it to do; two knuckles on my left hand were hideously swollen. Today I got a piece of glass in my index finger on my left hand which has really inconvenienced me as the index finger is used for using the phone, pressing buttons on a treadmill for instance – I actually resorted to going to a gym  today just to walk on the treadmill because it’s so cold outside; it was vile – and also this finger is particularly instrumental in rolling a joint. I really am in the wars.

** ROLL ME A J **


Emotional Guidance Scale

“What so many people desire, especially when they’ve felt deep suffering, longing or misery is to BE the opposite. 

The trick is to realise as human beings that we only have access to an emotional step in either direction on the scale; we can’t just jump to joy!

So the idea is to accept where you are and reach for some feeling that is a positive step for you.”


Since the death of my dear cat Bree-Anna, I have been feeling really low, right down at number 22 on the Emotional Guidance Scale. Gradually though I have started to move up and tonight I find myself at number 12, mixed with a bit of 10. Tonight I am totally fucked off and fed up because it’s been raining for four days solid and I can’t go out and walk my fat arse off – it’s not really fat, I know this because having lived in track-suit bottoms for weeks on end, my  jeans went on no problem – that’s something that could send some people soaring up to number 1 on the scale. Having identified myself at number 10 at best, this is below boredom, at number 9 – boredom is one of my least preferred emotions and in fact I prefer being at a painfully frustrated and disappointed number 10 because at least it’s a feeling. In getting to number 10 I did have to pass through some rather unpleasant numbers, such as number 21; guilt – yes, I did feel guilty that my cat got run over. After all, letting an inexperienced black cat out at night is asking for trouble. Number 19 kicked in a couple of days later, where I chose to vent my hatred and rage on people driving cars down my road; I considered barricading the road with dustbins and making the traffic in either direction turn around; cat killers, the fucking lot of them! Fuck the police, fuck the council, I’ll tell them about people who drive too fast and kill people’s cats outside their homes! – that was number 18. Number 19 also extended to a couple of suspect neighbours who could have done the deed; cunts. Anger was a real relief once the hatred and revenge died down, although they too were driven by anger (in at number 17). I moved through from number 16 to my current 12, without a hitch and now, if only the fucking rain would stop and I could go out and walk and listen to my music, I think I could even achieve a number 7.



Expect not …

… what others can do for you. The weather is total pants  – last week it was so cold, my fingers came out in sore red chilblains – this week, yes, it’s not freezing now but it’s pissing down with rain. I have not left the house for days, except for taking Son to school, and oh, I did go to the cafe for a bacon sarnie with Moo yesterday morning. Suffice it to say that I have been out of my kind of Rizla for two days. I have been making do with a small packet of green, which are majorly frustrating in as much as you’ve got to stick them together and it’s not as easy as 1, 2, 3, i.e. a pain in the arse. Never mind that every time I have a smoke I get rained on and my garden umbrella did not survive the winds early winds and so is lopsided and does not provide shelter, it’s not much fun. ‘Lurky,’ I said, ‘would you mind running over to the sweet shop and get me some big green Rizla?’ … she considered it and shortly declined on the grounds of ‘It’s raining!’  (although it was not). ‘Hang on,’ she said and she padded off to retrieve her fucking stupid skinny silver Rizlas! I personally don’t think that’s the way to treat your mother but hey, what do I know? I haven’t spoken to mine since 1999. Oh, and by the way, Lurky is ‘going to Camden’ clubbing tonight, which I think is adding insult to injury on two counts.



Pilferer’s Choice

I have  massive bush – a marijuana bush that is – growing in my garden. I proudly show photos taken from its early days to now in the way that some people show photos of their children or pets (admittedly there are very few people who are in the slightest bit interested and I suppose that goes for people’s pets and kids too). The bush grew from two little seedlings that were given to me as a late summer gift. I planted them in pots (with all the faff of getting the right soil and mixing it with this and that) but they started to look sad and the roots were soggy. In order to give them any sort of a chance, I planted them in the earth, which I had prepared with home-made compost (fruit and veg), alive with worms – apparently weed likes worm poo – last year I tried to buy some bat poo over the internet but the company never delivered. I’m pleased because I’m told it really smells atrocious. I am astounded at how the plants have flourished; the aroma is heavenly, the leaves are sticky, every day the buds are getting bigger and fatter! The last few days it has rained constantly, all sorts of rain, this morning was foggy and there was a misty rain all day. The buds are getting saturated and I’m fearing bud rot – I think the pilot leaves protect them a bit. I’ve looked at the forecast and it’s meant to be dry for a few days at least. I think its days are numbered. The worst weather is the wind (which hasn’t been too bad this week) because it blows the fuck out of it and I have to barricade it with the table and umbrella and a big upside down flower pot. Last week I cut a couple of heads – I  have one drying in a shoe box and I dried one quickly. There’s nothing quite like toking on an early bud … terrible munchies though, today alone I’ve eaten a packet of six iced buns and about six Twix.

Weed Today

It has been a few posts since I mentioned the weed situation. After my phenomenal failure, things got back on track. Doc miraculously got some very nice puff and he does nice big bags (a bit pricey, but drugs are). We seem to be in a groove whereby he steps it and I collect and pay on tick. Can’t say fairer than that. Now that I am comfortably back in my rut – I have weed to smoke, I do not run out –  I think I will lie low until my next epiphany comes upon me – hope it’s not too soon. My bush in the garden is growing like a dream, it has about 15 ‘arms’ and they’re covered in bud. Although it’s been raining a lot, at least it’s not freezing and we are having some sunshine and it seems to be flourishing. However, the high winds don’t make it too happy. I would say it’s got about another six weeks to go so, fingers crossed, I’m going to have a very merry Christmas.



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