We all make mistakes, no matter how clever we think we are. It’s taken me a lifetime to realise that so long as we learn from our mistakes and evolve, it’s really not a big deal. It just seems like it at the time. So, who wants to hear about one of my biggest mistakes? Okay I’ll tell you, but you have to promise what I say stays in this room/blog.
I had been reading up on the benefits of CBD. CBD is the extract of the cannabis plant used to alleviate Parkinson’s and epilepsy, but it is also good for joint pain, back ache and diabetes – which I suffer from. Its legal and you can buy it freely on-line and even at Hubert Fig (next to the lavender essential oils for incontinence). In contrast, THC is the psychotropic part of the plant that causes intoxicating effects and is illegal.
Anyhow my friend is a “herbalist”. I say friend, I mean acquaintance, I say acquaintance I mean a bloke I met down the pub who saw me reading about CBD. Anyhow this alternative horticulturist said he had recently managed to distil some CBD oil and infuse it into brownies and was happy for me to try them and let him know if it works. So, we set off to his house in his battered VW Camper van to try the merch.
Although he looks and smells like a “herbalist”, from the look of his front garden you wouldn’t think he had a green finger in his body. His lawn is like the scrublands of the Australian outback ... but with an abandoned fridge and a urine-stained mattress.
However, when you go into his garage it’s like the Amazonian rain forest. Full of exotic plants with lush leafy foliage and voluptuous bulbous buds. He has hydroponics, irrigation systems and grow lights. There are endangered species and small indigenous tribes dwelling under his rich jungle canopy.
He offered me a brownie from his stash and that’s when I put my brain on pause. I snaffled the whole brownie. After all, if a little CBD is good for you then a lot must work miracles.
He suggested we chill at his local, one of those flat roofed sports bars. On route he muttered, just in passing, no big deal “let me know how you feel, you are my human guinea pig for this new gear”. I looked at him quizzically - “you’ll be fine” he said.
Half a pint later and I felt like the world had caved in around me. I felt like I was SCUBA diving in gravity, drowning in a soup of liquid atmosphere. The pressure, the immense pressure was squeezing and crushing my brain. I felt heavy and sleepy, so I got up to leave the pub.
Next thing I remember is waking up on pool table surrounded by burly disgruntled pool players. As I looked up, my initial thoughts were this is just a dream, if I go back to sleep on this comfy pool table (that’s why they call them cushions) I’ll wake up at home and all will be fine.
But as I tried to drift off, I realised that I had no recollection of travelling home. My immediate thoughts, I kid you not, were that the brownie had transported my consciousness into a different dimension, and now I was trapped in a dark and sinister alternative universe that I could only return from by taking more cannabis.
It turns out that although my “drug dealer”, as I now call him, had distilled the good healthy wholly beneficial CBD oil, he had neglected to take out the THC. And I had experienced what is referred to in drug circles as the mother of all whiteys.
I made a big mistake that day. I could dwell on it, but I have come to realise that no matter how clever you think you are we all make mistakes and inevitably I will make more. The important thing is to learn from your mistakes, don’t repeat them and move on. And obviously just say no free medicinal drugs from a bloke you met down the pub.
No comments:
Post a Comment