You’re not going to believe what didn’t happen to me last night.

I couldn’t sleep and I’m fed up with that so I rummaged around in the dark for a sleeping tablet, swallowed it and went back to bed.

Half an hour later I was just completely wide awake and extra fed up because I’d deployed my back-up plan, clearly to no avail.

Half an hour after this I started to feel a bit unusual until, wait a minute, the running-through of my send-anyone-to-sleep shopping list was accompanied by some suspiciously pleasant blood currents.

I turned over on my back and realised I was smiling and ohmygod, are you kidding me? I’d only gone and dropped an ecstasy pill by mistake.

I did a bit of silent chortling and head-shaking at the preposterousness of the situation before investing in a few minutes to consider what I should do next.

There aren’t a lot of these sleeping-pill-esque fellows tucked deep inside my jewellery box, which is to say there aren’t any so it must have been very, very old.

Still doing it’s stuff though: ‘Quite impressive,’ said I to the imaginary supplier, who was gratified by the praise.

All the same, don’t think I need to tip up at A & E.

Also don’t think I fancy creeping around downstairs with Frank Sinatra on volume 1 (he’s what’s in the record player).

I’m just going to have to find me some action, thought I.

Not wanting to disturb the family, I groped around for some clothes (I know- you would have thought I’d learnt the value of lighting by now!) and left the house ready to party.

I did not look hot.

I wanted to run down the street but the Acton police are always on the look out for that sort of thing so instead I took big sideways steps, occasionally turning around, like in football practice; it felt good.

I wasn’t sure where I was heading but the bus is so goddam convenient right at the end of the road, it seemed churlish not to wait.

There was an ordinary lady there looking at me strangely (I was swinging around the bus stop but I kept catching my head on the timetable).

‘LOVE this jumper,’ I said, tugging on her sleeve. ‘Where’s it from?’

‘Germany,’ she said, which I thought was weird, even under the circumstances.

Once on the bus I scanned the Askew Road to see what was going down: not an enormous deal.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Lebanese flatbread, but C’mon! Where are the youth?!

We stopped outside Bruno’s school and for a moment I thought it was Winter and early in the morning and I’d left him at home. ‘Phew!’ I said to the drunk next to me. ‘Now THAT would have been irresponsible’.

Soon we were in Hammersmith. It’s not Party Central but it’s quite densely populated and recently they’ve renovated the Lyric Theatre rooftop and put wicker and grasses up there so check it out before you judge.

I leapt off the bus, trying to land on the most fun piece of pavement I could see and skipped down King Street, listening out for some tunes.

I’m going to cut a long, huge-pupilled story short here because I didn’t really find anything.

But I did chat a while to some Korean students. I said I was practising my English on them and kept asking if I could plait the girl’s hair. They both had great auras.

I also took a turn around McDonald’s. I enjoyed the green in there and slurped a milkshake, sitting in a Big Brother chair watching the staff ask all the ‘small or large’ questions. There’s not that many places where the staff is an overwhelmingly superior species to the customers and I don’t think you have to be high to realise it.

I knew the methylenedioxymethamphetamine was wearing off when I felt disappointed the post office was closed and I couldn’t get ahead of the game by posting off a birthday card so I thought, well, it’s been a good evening, maybe I should call it a night.

It was a mellow meander I had back up the road at 4.30 a.m. on a Thursday morning.

I felt benevolent and would have appreciated sitting in one of those massage chairs at airports, set on vigorous vibrate.

I let myself back in, ate a tube of smarties and snuggled back into bed, resuming that list, adding, ‘sweet potatoes’ to it at the end.

Then I felt sleep washing over me with time for just one last thought: What are you like, you silly old 80’s bint?!



Filed under London Mumbo, Mumbo Life, Uncategorized

3 responses to “Sorted

  1. adele

    Forwarding this to Zev. I’m sure he’ll love it as much as we did. Esp like the ref to a well known burger bar and it’s staff! Think your jewellery box is a little gold mine meself!xx

  2. robin wehl

    This is so funny, is it really true? Made me miss you extra…
    Robin and co.

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