Many moons ago
Fourteen years old, and I was interested in sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Unfortunately the ladies were far too frigid back then so it was mainly drugs and rock and roll. Most weekends me and my mate Dan would go to our friend Stu's house. It was a village the next stop on the train, about 5 miles away, but it could have been Royston Vasey. Stu's house backed onto a small stream which led to a river. Also his bedroom was on the ground floor with patio doors; giving us the perfect opportunity to say the pleasantries, and then hide ourselves away in his room, smoke copious amounts of weed and squidgy black, and listen to Kyuss. The best part was when we watched 'Stars In Their Eyes' on mute so it looked like Dolly Parton was singing 'Gardenia'. In retrospect there's no way his parents didn't know what we were up to, but hey ho.

For several weeks running during summer, Dan had pointed out to me a field about halfway between the two train stops, swearing it was a big field of weed. Each week I looked, and lo and behold I began to believe him. The next week we walked and met Stu half way there, until we reached what would have been about 6-8 tennis court's worth of weed. You know that scene in The Beach where they're running through it full of joy? For a brief time we had that moment too. Jump forward two hours, and we'd arrived back with binbags in the pockets of our cargo trousers to seize as much as we could, hide it in the nearby woods, and then smoke the lot.

Another hour and we were all carrying a black sack fulled to the brim down the main road leading toward Stu's village (glad the Five-0 didn't turn up at that point), up the hill and into the woods. Another hour and we'd realised that a)it was pretty damp and b) it was hemp; so we proceeded to get as mashed as we could on what we already had beforehand. Soon there were five spliffs being shared between the three of us, and then the heavens opened, soaking everything in a matter of minutes.

Dan then wondered what would happen if he threw a stick up at the pylon that was running through the woods.
"I wouldn't do that dude", was pretty much what I said.

He went for it anyway. First throw: nothing. Second throw: nothing. The third time, the wet stick must have hit two of the cables. What followed can only be described as the loudest thunderous noise I've ever heard, coupled with a huge bolt of electricity running half a mile up the hill, as far as the eye could see. A split second later, the wet stick fell back down to Earth in pieces, and on fire. We did the obvious thing and ran as far as we could.

Nearing the bottom of the hill, we came across a dead squirrel which had fallen out of a tree, eyes half closed and in rigamortis with its paws near its mouth. Putting a spliff end between its paws was possibly the funniest thing I've ever seen.

Anyway, as we get back onto the main road, we go into the (only) village shop to buy some more skins and general munch, to find it much darker than usual.

"There's been a bloody power cut" the shopkeeper said.
"Really?" was all we could come out with.

It turned out that basically the whole village was without power for 48 hours, except a handful of houses that were south of the railway - one of them fortunately being Stu's house.

Length? About 3 square miles. Sorry. I normally only write about two sentences.
( Turquoise Hexagon Sun has just dropped acid on, Fri 27 Jan 2012, 21:02, 2 replies)

'Unfortunately the ladies were far too frigid back then'
is that code for 'I was a smelly ignorant teen that no-one would touch'?
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Fri 27 Jan 2012, 21:35, closed)

Yes.

( Turquoise Hexagon Sun has just dropped acid on, Sat 28 Jan 2012, 11:42, closed)