OK, yes, we had consumed various substances, and yes, it had been a long day. We were dropped off in Drumlithie (Aberdeenshire) at the local hippy commune, ostensibly to spend a day picking fruit for money. There were women sitting on tree stumps playing whistles, topless blokes with mohicans repairing motorcycles, political arguments and lots and lots of beards. It was all very lovely.
The day started badly (or brilliantly) when we realised we were too late to go to work, so as young mis-guided folk used to do, we dropped a tab of acid and waited to see what the day would bring. It mostly brought other young, earnest bearded political types trying to lecture us about our karma. We laughed. A lot (young people used to do this).
Later, one of these weardie-beardies invited us to his room where he produced a jar of shit which he claimed was sliced fly-agaric mushrooms, filtered through milk several times to leach out the toxins. He wanted someone to test it on and we were freeloading at his farmhouse – the perfect subjects. We ate the whole jar and spent the next few hours sliding about in our own dribble in rural Aberdeenshire, thus the episode above ^^^ Hardly the stuff of Grassic-Gibbon novels but mostly enjoyable nonetheless.
We slept in a haystack that night, the only other option being ‘The Black Room’, a basement reserved for visitors and their dogs – it was already occupied – the visitors had left but had neglected to take their snarling hounds.
