Last orders

Hello again. I am suffering from an intensely painful and vengeful cold as I write this, so I beg your forgiveness if I happen to wander off into unusual or unexpected byways. I'm finding it very hard to concentrate at present.

In fact, this must be what it is like for all those young children of today and that Attention Deficit disease everyone seems to have now. To be honest, I never really believed such a thing existed. I was pretty certain it was just kids running around like idiots and drinking Fanta and not being so bright.

Now I'm not so sure. What I am certain about, however, is the wonderful medicinal properties of a cocktail of anti-cold and flu drugs, both prescription and non-prescription. I've been working and socialising fairly continuously since I was struck with this affliction, and the delusions, hysteria, and general mind-warpedness that have been brought on by my drug stew, combined with the feverishness of the condition itself, have made for some very amusing incidents indeed.

Rude awakening

Just the other day, for example, I had awoken from a fevered dream in the back of the van, my duvet covered in sweat and manly tears, when I realised there was a knocking on the front window.

I hurriedly pulled on my clothes and clambered into the front seat. My chemical-frazzled mind was making it hard for me to see anything, so the blurry figure outside the window I assumed was a parking inspector, or someone similarly out to persecute me for no good reason.

I wound down the window, but this failed to make the figure any clearer. I tried blinking repeatedly, but this only served to make my eyes more moist, and in some ways added to the blurry effect. In the end I decided to step out of the van to get a closer look.

So I stood outside the van near this blurred mysterious figure. I called out: "Who are you? What business have you with me? Why do fools fall in love?" The blurry figure answered none of my questions. Instead, it beckoned me to follow it.

I took a moment to weigh up my options, but my body had already made up its mind – so to speak – and I was following the figure, seemingly of my own accord.

Forest of darkness

Before long we were walking along a path in the woods. I could hear the muffled sounds of birds singing, but their singing sounded vaguely threatening to me, like a very very drunk Van Morrison.

The blurred figure moved ever onward, and I wondered what it wanted with me. I knew that I could be led into real danger – after all, I was largely incapable, and this could be a murderer or some kind of pervert. On the other hand, it could be a kind of physical manifestation of a life force or energy, keen to let me in on the secrets of existence. It could be a ghost, or a spirit of my ancient ancestors. It could be a tramp.

Whatever it was, I felt a certain urgency in my need to stay just a few steps behind it. I can't explain why this was; it simply WAS. I guess that's kind of like Buddhism or something.

Anyway, I just kept stumbling ahead, through the ever-thickening scrub. The path seemed to be disappearing the longer we went on, the trees closer and more threatening. I was being led into the very heart of a forest of darkness, and I realised I was not wearing any underwear.

Quick and painless

Slowly the light grew dim, until we were walking in near darkness. I could barely make out the blurry figure, but I could feel its presence. The longer we walked together, the more I felt comforted by it being there. Was this some kind of version of the infamous Stockholm Syndrome, where the kidnapped begin to identify with their captors?

No. No, it wasn't. I was just afraid of being alone in dark forests by myself – moreso than being in a dark forest with an indecipherable blurry figure. That's all.

Eventually we made our way into a clearing. I could feel my skin rubbed raw by the leaves and grasses and tree barks we had passed. I just prayed that if this mystery creature was going to kill me, that it did me the honour of making it quick and painless.

Just at that moment a light came on, and my eyes slowly adjusted to the change. The blurry figure started to come into focus.

It was hairy, that much was certain. It was also, it seemed, a dog with a squirrel on its back.

Why would a dog let a squirrel ride on its back? Why would the squirrel/dog team be keen for me to follow them into this clearing, which I had now realised was a netball court? What secrets did the dog and squirrel hold?

All of these questions ran through my mind, but the one emotion I felt most keenly was that of disgust. Disgust, and regret. I was disgusted at myself for allowing drugs to let me waste hours of my precious time in blindly following a dog with a squirrel on its back to a netball court with night lighting. And regret, at the fact that I could have spent that time continuing my kip in the back of the van.

So the moral of the story, obviously, is that if you are going to do drugs, make sure they are legal (of course) and that you only ever have a good old sleep afterwards. And never trust dogs.