Just made myself some fajihas, as it's a lovely, Mexicanish sort of day in Falmouth. Well, it's quite hot. And while I was ladling on the creme freche (healthier than sour cream) I noticed it had a sort of very fine grey dusty coating. But, being a single bloke, I ate it anyway.
Last week out neighbours handed us a big bunch of poppies (possibly you can see where this is going), as their garden is very lovely, and the loveliness of the poppies therein has oft been commented upon by m'good self. Anyway, the poppies blossomed forth very prettily, and then all the petals fell off, and I kept meaning to take them out to the compost bin.
Only I've just realised that the grey stuff on the creme freche was in fact poppy dust.
So what I basically just had was opium fajihas.
Hmm.
It might be best if I don't make any calls today.
Yesterday however, I went for a walk around Redruth, where there are lots of old mine workings that have become pleasingly overgrown, in a John Wyndhamesque sort of way, with jackdaws nesting on ledges and foxgloves growing everywhere. And I can be fairly confident I was there, as I took some photos, unless I hallucinated them too.
Anyway, my hope is that JATBC will soon become the first port of call for people wanting to look up photos of abandoned cornish mining buildings. Although as I left, four carloads of people with large 'proper' cameras (with tripods and lightmeters and everything) got out and headed in the direction I had just left. So that probably won't happen either.
I've finally worked out which of the scripty things I'm currently doing is paying me, and which isn't, and of course the one I'm spending lots of time rewriting is the one that isn't. Dammit. They were very keen on Romey loves Jools though, so they like my stuff. Just not the stuff I'm doing for them now. It's difficult doing sample scenes for a series when all you have to go on is the scripts, as things change so much between page and screen - some actors can really bring a character to life, when there wasn't that much to them on the page. Anyway, I'm having one final shot at it, and if the poppy dust doesn't help, I don't know what will.
Of course if they like the stuff I wrote under the influence, I'm going to have to head out to Limehouse soon and find one of these oriental opium dens I keep reading about in the penny dreadfuls. I bet this is just how Sherlock Holmes* got started.
*Oops, no it wasn't - Sherlock Holmes was into cocaine, not opium. Textbook error.
11 comments:
What with your predilection for taking long baths and your new-found addiction to opiates (I like to put an optimistic spin on things), you're better off looking to the Johnny Depp character in From Hell (dreadful film, but Depp gets in the bath a lot, so it's not *all* bad) for inspiration.
You won't write anything of note, but you may discover the true identity of Jack the Ripper. While developing a highly suspect mockney accent. Does that help?
That helps immeasurably. Many thanks.
I tried to watch From Hell, but like every other Alan Moore adap ever, it was rubbish. My hopes for V for Vendetta are not high.
Yes, I suppose the prospect of Depp in the bath wouldn't hold the same appeal for you. Hmm, just remembered I've got a picture of that here somewhere. Ahem.
I believe he spent some time taking opium for purposes of subterfuge in 'The Man with the Twisted Lip'.
Anyway. One drug always leads to another. Everybody knows that.
I did hear that there was someone who was spending an absolute fortune on dried poppy heads on ebay, as he'd been making opium tea out of it and had gotten addicted....
Just think how much fun you could have with toasted poppy seed rolls. Bread *and* opium. I'm sure Marx must have had something to say on the topic.
And does that make that Greggs the Bakers are the biggest organised drug-peddlig operation in the UK?
I'm not going to worry. I'll just think about gorgeous foxgloves and poppies.
Foxgloves are scarier than poppies... never mind the sneaking suspicion there's always a bumble bee in there somewhere waiting to pounce, once someone informs you they produce a heart-stopping poison it's hard not to look at them funny. Or maybe it's just me.
What about Huxely? Through the Doors of Perception is an essay he wrote about the joys of being absolutely caned on mescaline. (the blurb just says, 'one day Huxley sat down and decided to take three grams of mescaline. This is what he wrote') I'm assured that three grams of mescaline is quite alot, the exact description being 'enough to make an elephant float'
Seeded rolls. Is this why they're so nice?
Yes.
I forgot to say that Limehouse is all swanky riverside apartments and a marina these days, so you may have been correct about Sherlock Holmes after all.
Not sure - haven't been to the watery bits for ages. It's pretty clayey around there though (with lots of grown-over spoil heaps and that) so that sounds about right.
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