Wavy walls and kaleidoscope carpets.
A Gift to you from my yet to be published student years memoirs:
G had revealed the mysteries of silly cybermen to me shortly before I returned to Leeds. Someone must have declared it open season and every transit van in town was heading for the hills. G and a mutual friend, W, from school invited me along. So, what were we looking for? Tits. What? If it’s not white with a brown nipple on it, don’t touch it. We only found a handful and as W was driving and G knew I hadn’t done them before, I got to take them all. They tasted disgusting, but at least they were clean and relatively dry. The slimy brown buggers I would have to put up with in Leeds were really disgusting. We went back to W’s for some lunch. His Mum was expecting us, well, G anyway. He was such a nice boy. I saw no reason to object to this. I could handle it. I’d been stoned before. I had no idea of the difference between LSD and the run of the mill cannabis resin I’d smoked previously. It had been mildly intoxicating, but not halluginogenic like some people claimed. In fact, with the exception of oil and black, which, G informed me, contained Opium, it had always been a disappointment. But, I lived in hope and, being a cigarette smoker, it came naturally. Non-smokers never looked comfortable with a joint. They held it between their thumb and first finger and didn’t take it back. It was definitely wasted on them.
The mushrooms were starting to kick in as we got to W’s. I’d never been there before or met his Mum and strange things were happening in my head as we were introduced. Sh!t, this is wrong. She must know. How can anyone not know? What the fnck’s going on? The table’s already laid and she’s prepared a light salad for us. Just like at home. Except I didn’t feel at home at all. No way. The food feels and tastes weird. The wallpaper’s swimming. So this is the real deal. W looks like the Mad Hatter. I want to go with it but his Mum’s there, looking at me, talking to me. Get me out, quick. But not too quick or she’ll suspect. I had never been so scared in all my life.
Mrs. W cleared the plates away and I whispered to G to get me out. He tried to calm me down, but could see I was only just keeping it together and was ready to explode. They made some excuses and we got up to go. My legs felt funny. Everything felt funny. Was this me walking? Outside. Thank Christ for that. Sh!t. What had she thought of me? W said she just thought I was quiet. Couldn’t she hear me screaming, laughing, going insane? Obviously not. We got in the van and drove around the country lanes. I could let it go now. It was the best. Suddenly, the Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour made sense. So this was how those in the know made life in our home town bearable. There was nothing to do there except drink. A population of 6000 and about 15 pubs. Most of them within 100 yards of each other on the High Street. The Cinema had shut down on the day we moved there. I remember the poster for the last film it ever played distinctly, though the film and exact date escape me. The swimming pool only opened during the summer cos it was open air. They even had to invent crop circles to give themselves something to do on hot summer nights.
We ended up back at G’s. His parents were on holiday in Mauritius or something. Anyway, it was OK. No paranoia. Hunky dory. Listening to Kashmir. Loving it. Sinking into it. Sh!t, what time is it? Four. My Mum’ll be home from work soon. We have dinner at six. I’ll have to be back before then. I can’t go back like this. G said I’d be OK by then. I’d have come down. But how could I be alright? Something had fundamentally changed inside my brain. It couldn’t just go away, surely. I’d never be able to face my Mum again. It did. I did. Nothing had changed. Unreal. G said acid just reveals the real you. Yeah, right… Shortly after returning to Leeds, I was walking across Woodhouse Moor tripping so wildly that I saw gorrillas playing football. It later dawned on me that they’d probably really been African students. Now that was frightening.
