The need for sedation

Nerja is Spain's supposed hippy, cum hash, hang out, according to a
mate called Chief. Plenty of lovely ladies &; over 70's, but nobody
who looked remotely like a toker. It's still raining.

My need for hashish is great. Why on earth didn't we smuggle some
diesel over from Blighty? I decided to have a few beers, so as I could
hopefully forget about my addiction. Bad move, as it fuelled my need
more. Daniel could only shake his head in disappointment, as I
approached any non-European male aged between 20 &; 40 to ask for
some herbage. Negative replies, each &; every one of them.
Therefore, kip up shawody.

Awoke in the evening, so off for more booze, then onto a bar where
people were actually toking. I started shaking &; hastily approached
one of the happily stoned chaps. I asked gestured to his spliff.

'Dinero. Me wanta Hasish.'

I was ignored.

CUNTS.

My shaking became more prominent, as I smelt the sweet herb in the air,
but had no access to it.

'Dan - we have to leave now. I'm on the edge.'

Got back to the hotel, but I just couldn't sleep. Dan decided to play
his newly acquired Charlie Landsborough, God Rock album to try &;
make me see the err of my ways. It was working, until I thought I heard
Charlie call me shallow. I almost threw the Walkman off the
balcony.

We were awoken the following afternoon by an annoyed proprietor of our
abode.

'You have to leave!'

'But we're staying tonight.'

'Well you have to get out for the cleaners. You have half an
hour.'

A quick shower &; out into a somewhat more agreeable climate than we
have encountered since arriving, (i.e. sun). Daniel continually
commented on my need of THC, which made me feel worse. He said a walk
around the hotel filled 'Spanish' part of town would sort me out.

It didn't &; I moaned every step of the walk.

Even though I was miserable &; sulking about my quandary, the walk
was quite delightful. There were some quite excellent vistas of the
surrounding mountains &; some extremely interesting flora. We
encountered a few 20 ft cacti like plants. They were strong old
buggers. Daniel thinks all plants must derive from these - the mother
of all plants.

Took to the beach, where the bet of 100 ptas for the first pair of
breasts seen had no winner. Fat, over 40's don't count. Checked out the
rocks &; caves for hippies, but none were to be seen.

Back to the square for a hollow coffee.

At least the sun is out &; I have spotted a couple of scurvy hippy
types, playing instruments. With a shake of Daniels head, I scampered
over to them.

One was English, so I was able to get across how desperate my need
was.

'Maybe, although my dealer could be anywhere.'

I told the chap I wanted 5 grams of the best hash he could get hold of
&; asked what time we should meet.

'I don't know.'

'Err - err - well look, I'll be hanging around this square all
evening.'

'Okay, I'll see you this evening.'

'FP'

On returning to Daniel, he told me that he wanted to leave the square
there &; then. I explained &; he said that he'll leave me down
there on my own.

'Cheers mate.'

Back at the hotel we created a chessboard &; pieces, out of paper.
We started playing &; got bored after 4 moves each. I breathed &;
the 'pieces' floated across the 'board'.

Popped back to the square an hour &; a half later - no joy.

On returning back to the hotel, Danny stated that he was going to have
a bath to warm his cold heart. Afterwards, we returned back to the
square to find no hippy wannabees, but an abundance of
schoolgirls.

Ambled over to a wonderful Italian restaurant, where Daniel decided to
have pizza. I thought I'd be a tad more adventurous &; opted for one
of the homemade pasta dishes. On enquiring what my choice of fodder
was, Danny decided to have exactly the same. My unusually sober head
just couldn't take this, so I had to rest it on the table for a good 2
minutes.

The lovely, yet portly waitress, who fancied Dan, took the order, of
which I had now changed &; returned with 2 dishes that resembled
lasagne. Neither tasted as if they contained the ingredients of our
chosen fare &; were basically, the same. Sipped a complimentary
glass of some lemon liquor &; returned to the square.

Still no hippies, but even more adolescent girls. Dan got the horn
&; promptly slipped 100 ptas into a telescope for a closer look.
When I asked him whether I could have a go, I ushered him out the way
&; realised he had infact focused in on a Spanish waiter &; not
the pre-pubescent beauties I had envisaged.

Caf? con leche, then last chance saloon to try &; find some hash,
before returning to the hotel. I was driving Dan insane, as the age
range of my prospective dealers had now extended to between 1 &;
80.

Whilst contemplating asking a couple of street urchins smoking in a
doorway, Danny spotted a dread locked greebo. I collared him &; he
said he could score some. I produced 5,000 ptas. He walked me to the
street urchins. Gave them the money. They gave me two lumps &; I
gave them all the thumbs up &; cheezer.

THE WEV IS BACK.

Up reasonably early, after a restless sleep. We were booking out &;
off to Gibraltar today.

Check out was at noon. We left the room at 11.55, only to find the
hotel owner loitering outside our room. He promptly grabbed the key
from me. As we were all walking down the stairs, we heard a grumble
from the owner.

'Grr - grr - grr.'

'What's wrong?'

Whilst pointing at an upturned corner of paper on the key ring, he
roared.

'GRR - GRR - GRR.'

Then he ripped it up.

Jumped up little shite. He kept us up most of the night with a
cornucopia of gongs &; chewy impressions, then he's got the front to
moan about an upturned piece of paper no larger than my
fingernail.

Anyway, we escaped, had a little bit of tucker, and then made our way
to the bus stop for a bus to Malaga.

Whilst waiting, Dan noticed a scrawny black &; white dog. It was
sniffing around some geezers shopping, whilst he was tying his
shoelaces. We laughed.

After the dog got a clout around its ears for its trouble, it darted up
the street. Dan commented that it would soon be a dead dog.

The bus was going to be another 20 minutes, so we sat at a restaurant
&; sipped at Limonada, until we heard a bang &; saw a lorry
brake, bump, then drive off. Next, the sounds of a yelping, dying,
black &; white dog were heard. We felt sick.

Reached Malaga - gave 'FAIRPLAY - The Poseidon Palace' another wave,
followed by an onward journey onto Gibraltar.