- Name: northlondonhippy
- Visit the hippy's brand new site!
Contact the hippy
VISIT THE HIPPY'S NEW SITE: www.northlondonhippy.com Spend some time chilling out with the hippy...He used to be "the most shroomtastic stoner on the internet!" until the UK banned fresh magic mushrooms. He's still "the biggest internet celebrity you've never heard of!" He'll make you laugh, he'll make you think...he'll make you wish you were a hippy too!
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
My online megalomania continues to become more surreal. And my radishes are looking radiant. I'll save a bunch for Jesus and the Easterbunny, when they come down my chimney this xmas.
Ok, now I'm just being silly.
Here's the thing, I'm always fairly silly, but with me, it's sometimes difficult to tell when I'm joking and when I'm not. Even in real life, my humour frequently cuts quite close to the bone. My gags have no boundaries, no subject is taboo to me.
Yes, it does get me in trouble sometimes, but so what? A laugh is a laugh, no matter how cheaply you got it. And the world needs more laughs. Lots more.
No one's sent me any free shit yet and it's been over 12 hours since I posted my plaintive plea for gratis goods and services. What's with you people, get with the hippy program, I'm waiting you know! I want free stuff, I want free stuff, I WANT FREE STUFF!
I've discovered several searches done on Google, not directly related to me, which keep bringing people back to this page. The one I want to mention now is "clueless_joe". He's a proper internet celebrity whose work I enjoy, though I think he may have given up on his column on the HolyMoly website. He hasn't updated it in months and months.
I mentioned clueless_joe in one of my earliest entries on this blog and for some reason, when you search for him in Google, that entry appears on the first page of results. Hopefully this page will come up in that search instead, so I can tell all the clueless_joe fans that I don't know what happened to him. If you want to know that badly, go post a request for info on Popbitch. I think the person behind c_j still hangs out there. Otherwise, you can always just dig the hippy, though I am far less articulate than c_j and don't really understand the facsination with a2m.
It's the last day of the month today and I can now state with some degree of authority that November was the best ever month for hippyvisitors! Right now, the count is just below 300 and barring a last minute rush, I doubt it will top 300 this month. It's still cool, incredibly cool.
Thanks to everyone whose dropped by and chilled out with this hippy. I'm addictive, so feed your hippyhabit daily! Bookmark me, grab the RSS/ATOM feed, I don't care how you do it, just keep coming back for more!
I did, just now, but that is about to change.
I've decided I want lots of free stuff. After all, xmas is just 'round the corner and my birthday happening sometime in January, I deserve it. How about sending me some free gifts?
Suppose you have a product and you'd like it favourably reviewed by yours truly...just send me one! I can't think of a better endorsement for any type of goods or service than one from the hippy.
If this hippy digs it, you know it must be good! How many times have I said that? More than I can count. It's time my little catch phrase started working for me and bringing in the swag.
So go on, whether it's junk food or 20" Apple G5 iMac's, Porsche 930's or extra-large y-fronts....start sending it all my way. A wide-screen, Freeview-enabled, 42" plasma tv, yes please!
How about holidays? This hippy wouldn't mind 2 return, 1st class air-tickets to anywhere, all-inclusive with 5-star accommodation, please. Pretty please. I'll name-check your airline and the hotel, even the travel agent.
So if you would like your product or service featured here, in the highly readable, highly popular, northlondonhippy blog, please get in touch. I'm sure we can do a deal.
Hey Rizla, how about a lifetime supply of king-sized red? You know it makes sense!
Trust me, this is advertising you couldn't buy from any agency and I'm willing to give it up to you for the cost of whatever it is you make or do anyway. It's a real bargain.
My legions of hippyfans, like me, are complete consumers. They'll vote with their visa cards, any which way I point them. You want to increase sales and brand awareness, you need to get down with the hippy!
I don't care whose corporate cock I have to suck, I want lots of free shit and I want it now.
How about free vouchers for McDonalds, after all its the ultimate in hippymunchyfood. Mmmmm, quarter pounders with cheese, yummmmmmm.........
Here, to "make life simple" for you, here's a list of things I really want at the moment. (Please note, just because something is not on the list, doesn't mean I don't want it. Send it to me anyway, right now.)
1) Apple 20" G5 iMac, fully spec'd out w/250 Mb hardrive, Maxium RAM, Wi-Fi, Bluetooth (with matching BT keyboard & mouse), Airport Extreme and 60meg colour-photo IPOD
2) A car - A VW polo or better
3) A digital camera - with lots of extra megapixels
4) A DV camera, preferably SONY, a really shiny one with DV In/Out & optical zoom and audio inputs plus a tripod, external microphone, extra batteries, tapes and accessories
5) A combination DVD recorder/Hard Drive Recorder, pref: Sony with Giant Hardrive!
6) A PS2 w/GTA San Andreas
7) A laptop - SONY Vaio or Apple Powerbook - top of the range, naturally
8) A new PDA - whichever one is best
9) A jetcar or helio-bike, whichever is invented first
10) Hard-drugs, hookers and handguns - my usual old favourite stand-bys
That's enough to get your started, but I won't say "no" to anything at all. If you want to send me something, just get in touch and we'll arrange for delivery. If your shit's good enough, it might even warrant me collecting it in person. Think of it as a prize that you couldn't put a price on, a personal appearance from the northlondonhippy!
If you think I'm joking, think again. I really want freebies. Lots of them. All offers considered. Try me!
Monday, November 29, 2004
I was up at the crack of dawn today, quite a hairy time indeed. Hairy, crack, geddit? I'm a barrel of laughs already!
I gave the house a serious blitz and did a reasonable job of cleaning and straightening up. And you thought being the northlondonhippy was glamorous...well you thought wrong. Fucker.
Sorry, I didn't mean to call you fucker, my fingers slipped.
I'm in a weird mood, I don't know why. I didn't get to shroom today, so you can't blame that.
You know, if I don't shroom pretty soon, someone is going to sue me for false advertising because I'm always claiming to be the "most shroomtastic stoner on the internet". Trust me, I still am and I'll be shrooming at the next possible opportunity. I'm going to go shroom-crazy really soon.
Hey, it's my tenuous sanity at stake here. I am really overdue for a session with my mushroom god. I need an extra large dose of my special brain medicine so I can spend some time in that secret world...I am craving those pretty colours!
My grow kit continues to underwhelm me. The "2nd flush" consisted of 2 mushrooms, neither that big and the caps didn't open. Something is still wrong, I just don't know what. By all rights it should be producing a flush a week. I'm giving it one last chance before I bin it and give up on growing all together. I'll just buy 'em as I need 'em, it's not like they are hard to get or expensive here in "legal shroomland".
I watched a cool movie the other day, which I recorded onto my SKY+ from SKY Movies. It's been doing the rounds late at night for the last month or so and I finally grabbed it.
It's called "THE SALTON SEA" and it was a pretty good noir-ish thriller set in the seedy underworld of speed freaks. "Tweaker" is the word for it apparently, I've never heard it before myself. Seems like there's secret worlds out there even this hippy hasn't encountered.
Now I've never been into speed, not really my thing. Chemically I've always needed to go down, not up. I've already got too much excess energy anyway. Weed is what need, pot and I mean a lot.
Check out the link above if you want to know more about the film. It had just enough twists to keep it interesting, I liked it.
This is one of those unfocused hippy entries that don't quite satisfy. It's well intentioned, but isn't really hitting the mark, is it? Perhaps I'm too critical of myself.
No "perhaps" about it, I'm my own worst critic and enemy. At least I'm here and I'm trying.
Sunday, November 28, 2004
You'll note at first glance that I've removed the link to that vulgar and self-serving page, the "BEST" of the hippy.
What sort of person must I be to trumpet my own horn quite so loudly? I don't know what I could have been thinking to put together such a page. I now recognize my place in this world as a complete nobody, a nothing, a zero.
My foolish dreams for world-wide-web domination must come to an abrupt end. How could I have really thought that this one tiny inconsequential blog would have any impact on society? I now know that this will never be.
Thank you for putting up with my egotism and megalomania, I hope at least it provided you with some amusement and maybe a few laughs. You've been my faithful hippyfans for over 8 months and for that I am very grateful. Through the rough and the smooth, the good and the bad, you've all stuck by me. Well, most of you.
Oh get real! Do you really think I'd give up that easily? Fuck that shit, man! I'm back, I'm bad and I'm as crazeeeee as ever! Go on, give us a super-sized yippppeeeee!
I really have removed the "BEST" of the hippy link from the page though. It still can be found on my crappy little Geocities homepage, but I've decided to keep it out of the blog. I want this page to be pure, unadulterated hippy, and in some ways having a "best of" page cheapens that. I think so anyway.
Besides, a truly loyal hippyfan would be just like me, a "completest" and you would need to read each and every individual entry anyway. How else can you get closer to me, if you don't hang on every single word I've ever written. And you do hang on every single word, don't you? And I know you want to get closer to this hippy! Fuckin' hell, you better!
I've been working on a hippyvoice to use for radio call-ins. I could be a regular guest on some lucky radio programme. They could feature me once or twice a week. The voice I would use would not be my own, though people close to me might recognize it - I hope not. I’ve been practicing make my voice deeper and really raspy. I probably sound like some kind of obscene phone-caller, but that would work for my purposes.
I could talk about events in the news, pop culture, music and of course drugs and the sacred art of being the northlondonhippy. I could give shrooming tips. I could encourage sixteen year old Britney look-a-likes to get in touch. I'm sure a look-a-like could provide just as fine a BJ service at a price I can afford!
I was thinking that one possibility could be Pete & Geoff's Breakfast Show on Virgin Radio. I listen to them a lot when I'm driving home from work in the morning. They like to feature eccentrics and crazeeees, so I'd fit right in. I think they would dig what I do here as well. They always joke that's Geoff's a dopehead, so we'd hit it right off.
Naturally, I'd tone down my act a bit, wouldn't say "fuck" or talk about BJ's or anything. I'd be on my best hippy behaviour. And it would be well timed for me, since I'm usually a bit wired after I finish working. I could go on-air, do my hippyrant, then sleep the sleep of the truly blessed. Think they'd go for it? I bet it would attract loads of UK-based hippyfans!
Plus VIRGIN RADIO is streamed live on the net, so it wouldn't matter what country you're digging it from. That link there will take you straight to the page that will let you listen to it too!
And that's not all! When I buy my Apple iMAC G5, 20" computer complete with garage band, I'm going to record a hippysong. I'm sure when I release onto the internet FOR FREE, it will race right up the pop charts with a bullet straight to number one! Naturally it will be called "Can I get a yipppppeee (for the hippy!). I bet you're humming it already and I haven't even written it, it's going to be that fucking good!
Yeah. I noticed I said when I buy my iMAC. I'm leaning sharply in that direction, subject to a test drive. Talk to anyone who already owns an Apple computer and you'll see just how devoted they are...it must be for a reason.
And speaking of major purchases, I think the hippymobile mach two is very much in my future! I've decided I miss having a car too much to go without one much longer. With a very modest budget, I hope to secure a compact, pre-owned auto. I'm leaving towards a VW Polo, which is small, zippy and they seem to have a good reputation. I'm hoping in the next fortnight to realise this dream. The computer will have to wait until after the dreaded Xmas holidays.
And yes, I'm dreading Xmas. This hippy is taking the coward's way out and working right through them. It's the first xmas without my dad, which shouldn't really matter to a heathen like me, but it does. I'm still missing him lots.
And in January, this hippy turns 42 years old. Fuckkkkkkkkkk. No, it's ok really. Age ain't nothing but a number anyway. This year has sucked rather royally, with the exception of me finding a new job that is. Next year can only be better. It can't possibly be worse.
Oh and don't worry about my birthday, I've decided not to mention the specific date in January. That way, I'll have the entire month to moan about it. So no need to concern yourselves with gifts and birthday cards and such. All you'll need to do is gimme a little yippppeeeeee and I'll be just fine.
And as for that kinder, gentler, more humble hippy? He's only make-believe. You've seen for yourself, there's no stopping this hippy and his maniacal quest for global supremcy!!
Saturday, November 27, 2004
My quest for internet celebrity is progressing at a snail's pace. Ok, the snail is on life-support, but at least it's moving a little bit in the right direction.
It's very cool, you know, having a secret internet identity. Everyone should have one. I even emailed a tv programme I've been watching with some "viewer comments". That's something I would never do with my real-life identity, but since I'm secretly the northlondonhippy, I can contact who-ever I want! If they do anything with my email, I'll be sure to report back. I'm hoping (and praying) they'll name-check me on their next edition. Sure they will hippy, sure they will.
Besides being the "most shroomtastic stoner on the internet", I'm also a shameless self-promoter, or rather, this hippy is...so I'm thinking that "letters to the editor" might be a clever way to go for furthering the hippy-brand. If I write enough of them, someone's bound to print one, or quote me on tv and then before you know it, I'll properly run the world! It could happen and my virginity might be restored as well.
I've been thinking I don't write enough about sex here in the blog. Maybe that's what I'm lacking. I mean, sure, I'm always going on and on about drugs, and rock'n'roll, but what's missing from the equastion? Sex of course! If I rambled on about explicit sexual subjects, perhaps that would bring me the fame and popularity I desire and so richly deserve. Erections and vaginal secretions are the future of blogging!
Not tonight though, but soon, I need to get down and dirty. Perhaps if I had a few teenage girls to play with, that would really make things interesting...but they don't come cheap! Perhaps I could get a discount for quantity.
Mrs. Hippy won't dig any of this, but hey, it's all in the interest of research and furthering my desire to turn this blogging lark into a full time career.
Could you imagine if I did turn this into a real gig? I've already been thinking I need to get a long-haired wig, a psychedelic head-band and some giant shades, as well as some sort of hippy-garb. Then I really will be ready for personal appearances, you know, shopping mall openings, birthday parties and Hollywood film premiers. But goddammit, I'm only attending openings for A-list films and ONLY if they send a limo. And it better be a black stretch caddy or they can fuck right off. I've got my standards and my hippyfans would accept nothing less than me traveling in style!
Speaking of hippyfans, you guys (and girls) have really come through for me this month. With only a few days left in November, I've already set a new record for the number of visitors dropping by to chill out with this hippy! It's been my best month ever....thank you all very much!
And so what if none of you have emailed me. I know I beg and plead for contact with you hippyfans, but it's fallen on deaf ears. I'll survive. No interactivity for this hippy. We'll keep things one-sided. I'm sure it's just your need to keep me on that pedestal, no matter how approachable I claim to be. I think it's time to give up and accept that no matter how much I ask, no one's ever going to send me an email. Ho hum.
Speaking of hippyfans, I've had visitors from the Philippines and Taiwan this week which is pretty cool. Blame www.sitemeter.com - I check it all the time. Most of you seem to be in north America and Europe, but I get a few from all over. Everyone's welcome to chill out with me...just bring your own drugs, it's not like I can get you all high...as much as I would love to...
One of the coolest things about sitemeter.com is that I can see from the stats it keeps that I'm getting lots of repeat business. Once you've had a little taste of this hippy, you're addicted and you keep coming back for more. That's very cool!
Remember! If you've found this blog, that means you are now a card-carrying member of the vanguard of the internet elite! Well done you for making it this far, bookmark me! Or better yet, check out the RSS feed, that way you don't have to come to the hippy, you can make the hippy come to you!
Friday, November 26, 2004
I rang my mother earlier to wish her a happy Thanksgiving. It was a brief call, I didn't have much time to chat. She sounded OK, well as OK as someone who's survived a major stroke and the loss of her partner of nearly 50 years. I'm going to make an effort to phone her next week for a proper chat. I'm a shitful son, really.
The government in the UK is launching a raft of new anti-drug laws as part of their "scare the public" campaign. There's going to be a general election here sometime next year...May the fifth if you want to believe what they write in the tabloids.
Here's the thing...how can this gov't even think about approaching the country's drug problems when they still have sorted out a harm reduction policy on alcohol. Alcohol is the drug that fucks up more people than all the other drugs combined, why don't they do something about that?
Simple really, the brewers and distilleries make campaign contributions, drug dealers don't. Ohhh, maybe I'm on to something....
Drug dealers of the UK, unite. Start kicking some of your ill-gotten gains towards politics. Form an action group, or a lobby group and let your voices be heard!
Trust me, if dope dealers were major campaign contributors, you'd see some more sensible laws regarding drugs.
It's true, booze is responsible for more health problems, injuries and pre-mature deaths than any other substance. But booze is legal and heavy drinking is encouraged.
The politics of fear is boring. Look out for that boogey man. Osama's hiding in your fridge, be careful when you take out the orange juice tomorrow morning or he'll jump out and get you. Maybe we better ban OJ or better yet, fridges!
They say honest people shouldn't fear the new security measures, ID cards and the like. The truth is, honest people are the ones who should be the most afraid. Criminals will find a way around these plans, they always do. I'm not digging any of this, but then I'm a civil libertarian. Oh and don't forget, secular humanist - which is a fancy way of saying I have common sense.
I'm not as tired tonight, I got around 6 and 1/2 hours of quality sleep today. I didn't set an alarm, so it was fucking lucky I woke up on time! I've still got over 5 hours remaining, and then I'm back on Friday night for even more fun!
I don't want to get anyone's hopes up, but there is a reasonable chance of some serious shrooming on Sunday. Oh please oh please oh please may I spend some time worshipping my mushroom god! A friend of mine is suppose to drop by sometime on Sunday afternoon, but I'm sure he could cope with me being completely off my face. I know I sure could cope with it! We'll see what Sunday brings!
Thursday, November 25, 2004
I wasn't planning a visit this early in my evening, but I saw something on the internet which caught my attention. Basically, its an article about the increasing invasiveness of airport security. Go on, have a read right HERE.
Needless to say, I'm mentioning this report because it links to something I wrote here a couple of months ago, called ASS BOMBS.
Read the news report, then read what I wrote and see if the two aren't that far apart!
I'll be back later to witter on about anything and everything. And if you're reading this from north America, happy Thanksgiving! Have an extra portion of turkey for the hippy!
Life hurts, so always opt for the drugs!
I'm at work, middle of the night, blah, blah, blah. It's actually been busy, but not blisteringly busy, so I'm cool. Oh come on, this hippy is always cool, tonight is no exception.
I'm quite tired, didn't get nearly enough sleep. Trust me, when you work nights, there's no such thing as enough sleep, no matter how hard you try. Come Thursday morning, my pillows and I are going to make sweet-sweet love for as many hours as I can manage.
My merry-go-round of working too much continues for another week, then I can chill out and catch my breath before the Xmas work-circus begins. I think I've got around a week off coming up and the hippy batteries will be recharged then. I'd give that a big yippppeee, if only I had the strength.
Didn't accomplish much on my days off, unless you count updating the "BEST" of the hippy. I should count it actually, since it is the only constructive thing I've done this week, outside of work.
Oh, I take that back. I also did some online computer shopping, or well, browsing really. I spent a good long time looking at the 20" iMAC, which seems like a really sweet system. I am sorely tempted, when the time comes, to purchase one. I still need to have a proper look at one in the new Apple store on Regent Street in central London, but I am very tempted.
I'm sure I'll bleat on about this until I make my final decision and pick a new one to buy. An Apple computer seems like more than just a toy, it seems like a lifestyle choice. A PC and an Apple will do the same things, it just seems an Apple might do them better and right out of the box. It's not just the design of the Apple, but the software as well. I need to test drive one.
The other computer I'm looking at is a MESH, which a friend of mine recommended. On price and features it scores quite highly and spec'd out it works out at about the same cost as the Apple I like. Apple has the edge, because of the software included with it. I would also check out Dell's prices and specs when the time comes, since I've been happy with mine for nearly 5 years.
Oh decisions, decisions, decisions. I'm still going to wait until after Xmas. Stay tuned to see which way this hippy jumps.
I still want to buy another car as well, but if I don't do it soon, I might put it off for a few months. To be honest, I would just like to go out and get one ASAP. I've been looking at 2nd hand VW Polo's, for around 3000 quid. That kind of money will get a loaded model, 4-6 years old, in good shape.
Life is too complicated. Major purchases, like everything else should be simple. And what's the hippy motto?? "Make life simple". I need to apply this philosophy to purchases as well as everything else in my life. I'm working on it.
Cars, computers, DV cameras, digital cameras, consumerism truly is my religion! At least I don't want an IPOD - well I do actually, but it's not on my list at the moment.
Enough of my special brand of drivel! Tomorrow night I'll be better rested, my wit will be sharper, I'll have direction and purpose. Well, ummm, a hippy can dream!
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Since my last entry I only went and took care of something I've been threatening for ages...I've updated the "BEST" of the hippy page. Now the "BEST" of the hippy is even better! It has even more links to classic hippy moments...twenty-six of them to be precise.
So go on, you know you want to, explore the relative concept that is the "BEST" of the hippy! Have fun, but not too much. You don't want to do yourself a mischief.
You can search for the handy link on the top right of this page or just be lazy and just click right --->HERE<--- Enjoy...
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
I do have an excuse at the moment, my rampant workload this month. All I've really done with my time off is sleep, excessively. I’ve even been dozing off on the sofa. And I've hardly been out the door. I haven't done anything constructive or useful. I haven't even written anything here, until now.
I'm not really going to write much now either. Instead I'm going to cut and paste something I wrote almost exactly one year ago, long before I started this blog.
I had an idea for a novel, which was going to be improvised (without an outline) around a group of unrelated characters. The idea was to bring them together through the narrative and tie their stories up around each other.
Naturally, I didn't finish it. Hands up if you find this surprising.
Since I am feeling especially lazy and unmotivated this evening, I thought I would bring you the first chapter, which I hope you will enjoy. If you do, let me know and maybe it will re-inspire me to complete it. Probably not, but who knows, anything can happen.
Anyway, here goes...
by the northlondonhippy
They didn’t think I overheard them. Matter of fact, I’m sure they didn’t realize I was in earshot. They wouldn’t have said it if they knew I was listening.
It didn’t upset me, not really. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, but it has been a while. Maybe I just forgot what it was like to be talked about like that. If only they knew the truth.
I work in the accounting department for a large company. It doesn’t really matter which one, an accountant is an accountant is an accountant, no matter what the real business is. If we sold cars, or books, or widgets or whatever, it would not make a difference from where I sit. All I really do is keep track of numbers. The numbers may represent monetary amounts, but they are just numerals on a page to me, or a PC screen.
I work Monday through Friday, nine-thirty to five-thirty. I never do overtime, I can’t. Not with my work at night as well. No one in the office knows about my other job.
I suppose a description is in order, since what I look like seems to define me no matter where I am. I'm a BBW, if you surf the net or read personal ads, you might know what that means. If not, I’ll explain: BBW means big, beautiful woman.
My dress size is twenty-two, my bust is a hefty 44GG. I weigh, well I won’t actually tell you that. I won’t tell you my age either. My mum always said it’s not polite for a lady to discuss her weight or her age. To complete the picture, I have dark brown hair cut into a bob and dark eyes and I am in my “thirties”.
I’ve been working as an accountant since I left school. I started out as an office junior and in the last six years, I’ve moved up to my current level and title as “payroll supervisor”. I’m still just an accountant. It pays the bills, as they say.
No one’s really ever made an issue of my size at work before, until today. I won’t lie to you, it’s not easy being a big girl out in the world. Open any magazine, turn on any television and you won’t see anyone that looks like me. Unless it is a news report on obesity, then you’ll see lots of us. Thin is in, you can never be too rich or too thin, I’m sure you’ve heard them too.
I’m not uncomfortable with my size, quite the contrary. I’ve always been “big boned”, even as a girl. And I won’t deny that I enjoy eating, I love my food I do. Sometimes, I can’t decide between my two favourite flavours of ice cream, Pralines and Cream or Double Chocolate Chip. Then I remember, I don’t have to choose and I get both! And yes, I know what you want to ask, I eat both as well, in one sitting.
I think they caught me off guard, when I over-heard what I heard. Sometimes I forget that I am who I am. Sometimes I think I let myself believe that I am like everyone else, that I am normal. But I know that I’m not.
Like last year, at the Christmas party, watching every cop off with everyone else. For the briefest instant, while watching my colleagues drunken fumblings, I thought maybe, just maybe someone would want to take me home. But then the realisation of who I am returned to me and I knew no one would be seen to be even chatting me up.
There’s an old joke someone told me once. It was a guy that had just had sex with me that told me this one, we were still in bed and naked. He was re-telling it actually, as someone had told him. Having sex with a fat girl is like riding a moped, he said. Do you know why? Because both can be a lot of fun until your mates see you.
So it didn’t completely surprise me when I was outside waiting for my minicab, after the Christmas party that Ian approached me. His opening was innocent enough, he suggested we share the cab, since he lived near me. I knew he was frustrated, I saw him get turned down by that secretary, a pretty skinny blonde girl by the name of Jacqui. I just didn’t realize how frustrated, not then.
The cab turned up and we got in. He didn’t notice me noticing him glancing over his shoulder, to see if anyone witnessed our departure together as he got into the cab. But I saw, I didn't miss this telling little gesture.
It wasn’t a long drive to my flat, maybe fifteen minutes. In that time, Ian was fishing for an invite to mine for a drink. I entertained the idea, briefly, of doing just that, but I keep my private life very separate from my work. But that wasn’t the only reason, it wasn’t even the main reason.
Ian is a good-looking guy, fit as they say. So why did I turn him down? It was the glance over the shoulder. If he didn’t do that, or I didn’t catch him doing it, I might have invited him in.
When it sank in to Ian that I was not accepting his offer, that I was turning him down, we had just pulled up outside my place. As I got out of the car, he snapped. He shouted “Do you really think I wanted to come inside with you? I was only teasing.” Yeah, right.
But he wasn’t. I knew that, and he knew that. I knew that he thought a fat girl would never say “no” to him. He thought I'd be an easy lay.
And it wasn’t just my rejection that was pissing him off, he was turned down by more than just me that night. He found this more humiliating that the skinny blonde secretary's rejection. He was angry because a fat girl shot him down.
I didn’t think anything of it after that. I forgot about it, until today anyway.
It’s not that I don’t like sex, I actually love it. I’m a very sexual person, really. I just didn’t fancy it with him that night. A girl can say “no”.
So when I heard him talking to that jerk from the mailroom today, I was ever-so momentarily stunned. Like I said, they didn’t know I was listening. That’s the problem with open-plan offices and cubicle partitions, you never know who is listening to what.
What I heard was this, Ian was talking about me. He was making a joke, at my expense. What he said was this: “Do you know the only way you could fuck Miriam? You’d have to roll her in flour and look for the wet spot.”
It’s an old joke, I’ve even heard it before. But not about me, originally when I heard it the subject was Elizabeth Taylor. You could tell it about any fat girl. I bet they told it about Oprah when she was on the hefty side.
OK, it hurt, but not for the reason you think. It wasn’t because it was Ian and he was probably still angry I turned him down last Christmas. And it wasn’t the joke itself, which I have heard before. It was the context of hearing it at work. I thought I was safe there, protected by common courtesy and professional respect. I thought it was a haven, where I would be safe from that kind of prejudice.
It would be one thing if I was out in public and someone said something rude to me about my weight. It happens, you get used to it. Like in the supermarket, when my trolley is full of ice cream and cakes and ham, I almost expect it. But I don’t care about it, not from a stranger.
No, this comment, this joke upset me because of where I heard it, sitting at my own desk.
If only they all knew the truth about me, but I could never tell them, would never tell them. At first I worried I might get found out, but the odds are very much against that.
The truth is I have many admirers, all around the world. I have them because a couple of years ago, I became an internet camera girl on a BBW website.
Maybe I should explain that a bit in plain English, because not everyone will know what I mean. On the world wide web, you can pay money to see live women performing in front of cameras. When I say “performing”, I mean sexually. The market has been around for a while and had become saturated, and then it became specialized.
I was an early internet user, nearly seven years now. I liked the anonymity of it all, the chatrooms, even the porn. I met men that way, a lot of them. They wouldn’t have to “ride the moped” in public and I got all the sex I needed.
I learned that there were men out there who were attracted to me precisely because of my size. They’re called BBW-admirers or chubby-chasers. I found web pages that catered to this interest and listed myself in their personal ads section.
I had a great time for a while, but then I got bored with it. Not the attention, but the meetings. Most men only wanted one-night stands and that was fine. Occasionally I would meet one that I really liked, but they never wanted anything more than a few shags. That was not fine.
One of the guys I was chatting to one night, told me about a site that changed my life. “www.bbwsonthenet.com”.
It was a website dedicated to BBW’s and their admirers. They had a contacts page, user profiles, the works. I found my new home.
When they added the live webcam girls section, I thought why not. I was one of the first to sign up.
I had to get a faster connection to the ‘net, the more bandwith the better. I got a decent webcam too. I set it all up in my bedroom and did a little re-decorating as well. I made my boudoir as sexy as possible, with lace curtains, frilly bedclothes, the works.
Finding sexy lingerie in my size has never been easy, but again the internet came through for me and I ordered and ordered. I have quite a collection. Toys too.
After I get home from a day of totting up numbers I open a bottle of wine and run a hot bath. The combination relaxes me and puts me in the mood to perform. That’s what it is, a performance.
I am no more my true self in front of the camera than I am in the office. It’s all performing or one level or another.
After the bath and a glass or two of Merlot, I get dressed for the evening. I try to make an effort, wear something different. I choose a thong (yes they do come in plus sizes), a bra, perhaps a teddy, sometimes a corset. I put on make-up though I never feel I get it right.
It might sound like a cliché, but I think my face is pretty. I’ve been told that many times as well. I know that’s what people say about fat girls, along with noting that we have great personalities, but I really think my face is attractive.
Once I boot up my PC, I log onto the ‘net and go the BBW site. I log in and check for messages from the site’s operators. They’re quite nice actually, it’s run by a married couple in Pennsylvania in the states. I’m paid hourly and I usually log-on for about four hours, longer on a Friday or Saturday night when I am not working the next day.
I do it seven nights a week and I hate missing a night. I wonder sometimes if it has become a compulsion. I wonder if I have become addicted to it.
Once I am logged in, I switch on the camera and microphone. I am live and worldwide and I wait for my admirers to join me in cyber space. The users of the site see a list of all the girls available at that time. They click the link and there I am, in full colour, live audio and video, streaming onto their PC.
I can see the return video on my PC screen, I look at myself while I am performing. I can’t see the men who are watching, but they can type to me in my own chatroom, and speak to me from their PC’s microphones. It’s still early, no one’s logged in yet, but they will.
While I wait for my cyber audience, I go over to my bureau and open a drawer. Inside is my collection of toys. Tonight I choose a large black dildo, it’s got to be at least fourteen inches long. I bet Ian at work wouldn’t measure up to that!
To be continued....?
(c) November 2003 - the northlondonhippy
So there you have it, I get lazy and you get to read something from the hippy vault. At least it's something a bit different from my own usual special brand of drivel.
All I have to do is click on publish and this chapter is out there for the entire world to see. Who needs a book publisher anyway? Someone that wants to make a buck or two. Screw it, let’s give it away for free!
Sunday, November 21, 2004
I've just enjoyed a special screening of the new film from Pixar, "The Incredibles". It was outstanding. It has a great script, really well plotted and realised, perfectly timed and hilariously funny.
This hippy doesn't laugh out loud very often, but I'll admit to some guffaws and belly laughs. The animation is so good, you'll forget it is CG. You even forget it’s animation, at least I did. I can't recommend this one enough kids. I can't wait for the sequel. Tell me there's going to be sequel!
The writer/director is called Brad Bird. Hey Hollywood, if you're listening, give this guy some more money and let him make whatever he wants. He's earned it.
Seriously, go see it, it's good fun. I think you're getting that I really dug it. This hippy gives it five yippppppeeees, which is the maximum on my hippy-yippppeeee scale.
Thanks to Shashank for the comment he left offering his advice on buying an Apple. He's not the first person to recommend them to me. That's the thing about Apple owners, they're fiercely loyal to the brand and wouldn't buy I PC if you held a gun to their heads. God knows I've tried that one more than once. They don't budge and it’s a waste of a bullet.
A colleague at work pointed out that the extra cost can be justified by the stylish design and cornucopia of software that comes pre-installed on a Mac. Fair point and I will keep it in mind when I visit the Apple store for a test drive.
Right out of the box a Mac has a full suite of office-ie software (WP, DB, SS etc) plus Garage Band (for recording music, which I still think about doing), video editing software, photo-editing, DVD burning etc. All cool things in my book that would make a similarly dressed-up PC cost the same if not more. I'm going to wait till after Xmas to make the purchase, so I've still got some time to decide.
My one concern about going for a Mac which I need to investigate is whether or not there are clients for things like eDonkey and Bittorrent, since I use both for various downloads. I'd miss having them, especially Bittorrent, so I need to work this out before I decide as well.
And hey, Shashank, if you're reading this, thanks for being one of my regular visitors and dare I say my first "super-fan". If you lived in the UK, I really would have given you my car. That's just the kind of mad, crazy hippy I am! Thanks for your support, it's appreciated...
And with that my loyal legions of hippyfans, I bid you a very pleasant good day.
I was hoping to have some sort of topic to write about, but I'm just too tired to come up with any ideas. I spent some time last night sifting through my latest entries in search of more additions to the "BEST" of the hippy page. I've selected a few more "gems" which I will hopefully be adding to the BoH page this week.
The site is on-track to have it's best month for visitors so far. I've nearly matched last month's tally and there's still a week more left to November. All things hippy are looking up.
I still remain undiscovered by the mainstream media, though I am certain it will only be a matter of time before someone picks up on whatever it is I do here. Aside from my aspirations for widening the hippy-brand, a recommendation in the traditional press would mean more traffic for the site. Of course, if some nice newspaper or magazine wanted a hippy column, I'd be happy to oblige. And I never miss a deadline, so I'd be a great addition to any periodical or daily. And the hippy would work cheaply, at least initially. It would be supremely cool if I was able to turn this blog into something more, but of course, that's not really the point, is it? I'll keep blogging no matter what.
While I think of it, the new Band Aid 20 single is really shit. I know it's for charity and all, but it is really not very good. Help the poor starving people in Africa, buy it, but don't bother listening to it. I'm sure we'll all be sick of it by the new year anyway. The original wasn't great, but it was a helluva lot better than the new version. Blechhhhhhh!
I've been looking at new computers again. My home PC is overdue for replacing, even though it still works fine, it is becoming increasingly obsolete. I'm on a Pentium 3 - 600Mhz, running Windows98, with a 27gb hard drive. It's nearly 5 years old and can't cope with any new applications, plus the hard drive is nearly full. Time for an update.
I've been looking at Dell and MESH, with MESH seemingly having the edge in the more bang for your buck department. I've also decided to have a look at what Apple has on offer, since they just opened their first European store HERE in London. I know they cost more than PCs, but I think it is worth seeing how they compare to PCs. What the hell, it costs nothing to look.
I've now decided to wait until after Xmas to buy my new PC as I expect the post-holiday prices will be much lower. This hippy is a cautious consumer!
As well as a new PC, I would like to purchase a DV videocamera. We'll see how it goes, but it would be groovy to be able to make some homemade hippy films. Naturally my films would involve rampant drug abuse and graphic sexual content. Don't worry, I'll sell them mail order, discreetly delivered to your door in a plain brown wrapper. All major credit cards accepted.
I'll make a deal with you, I won't log in and blog on until I have something proper to say. Hopefully this topical dry-spell will come to an end soon.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
I'm still not in your house, but for a nominal charge, I'd be happy to drop by and entertain your family and friends in person. You'd have to pay my travel costs as well, but if you're in London, it wouldn't be that expensive.
Christ, could you imagine if the northlondonhippy really did make personal appearances? The thought of that even scares me, I imagine it would frighten the beejeezus out of the rest of you! Fear not, I'm remain hidden behind my PC until further notice. What's the point of having a secret internet identity, if you don't keep it a secret?
Since last I dropped by, I haven't actually done very much. Mainly I slept about 7 hours. Oh and I watched a film when I got home on Friday morning, one that I had recorded on my SKY+ a couple of nights before. It was called "NEW BLOOD" and for a film I've never heard of, it wasn't bad at all. Actually, it was fairly entertaining for a b-movie crime film and it more than adequately filled a 98 minute hole in my morning un-wind session.
I'm back here again on Saturday night. I bet many of you find that strange as Saturday night is probably your night to party. I've worked shifts and odd hours for well over 15 years, so for me it's very normal. When your life is based on Monday to Friday, then Saturday night means something. Not to me, any night can be Saturday night when your off.
I hate working Monday to Friday, 9 to 5. It's just so normal and boring. I can do my shopping and errands during the week, while the rest of you are slaving away. See, not everyone at the mall on a Wednesday afternoon is unemployed!
It's fucking cold outside again tonight, which as a smoker, is a real drag. You could say the cold weather is good for my health, since I'm smoking less. I'd prefer to smoke more.
I'd love to stay here and continue typing my special brand of drivel for you all night, but I'm getting hungry and might need to rustle up a hippy-snack. I can sense a bacon sarnie in my future!
Friday, November 19, 2004
I'm sitting at my desk without much work to do. It's not my fault that there's fuck-all going on, I just have to cope with the boredom. To be honest, I'll be quite happy if it stays this way all night. I've got under 6 hours to go and could deal with things remaining as they are until I go.
I'm not really that bothered, if something happens somewhere, so be it. I'll cope. I always do.
I'm thinking about getting a bacon sandwich later on, on brown bread, smothered in ketchup. Yummm. And people say working overnights is unhealthy!
I got lots of sleep today so I'm not feeling tired at all. I started a bit later than normal tonight as I'm not in my usual spot. That's cool with me too. It's quite chilly and rainy, so I'm looking forward to another good day's sleep on Friday. And before I know it, it will be Sunday morning and I'll be finished until Weds night.
That's the catch this month for me, I'm doing 3 nights on, 3 nights off. The three on ain't so bad, but I could do with more time off in-between to recover. I actually prefer longer runs of nights on and longer stretches of days off, but beggars can't be choosy, can they? I'll take what I can get!
I'm just rambling, I've got no real agenda for this entry. I haven't got that much to say tonight. Sorry for wasting your time, but at least I've wasted some of mine. They can't all be worthy of the "BEST" of the hippy, can they?
Thursday, November 18, 2004
That's the problem with making any sort of plans, things rarely turn out the way you expect. I said I was taking a gamble planning this and I only had a very small window of opportunity for this little voyage. I guess I'm not that surprised.
I used to live my life with the spirit of total spontaneity, purposefully shunning any attempt to plan anything. I'd decide what to do from minute to minute, depending on where my mood wanted to take me. Shrooming is not that simple.
You need to plan for shrooming. You need to make sure there's nothing nagging you that you need to be doing; that you should be doing. You need to control your food intake and fast for a short while before you take them. An empty stomach is always best. You also need to create a calm atmosphere conducive to relaxation. You need to make sure your not required to have a clean head for anything important for hours and hours. If any one of those things is not possible, you probably shouldn't take any magic mushrooms at that time. Simple really.
So I'll shroom another day. It's not like they're hard to get. Perhaps my growkit will finally yield something consumable. I only cleared it off a few days ago, so there's still a chance I'll get some from there next week. If not, I can order more or just bop up to Camden and buy some there. We'll see.
I'm going back to bed soon. Isn’t that what normal folk do on a Thursday morning? The last thing I am is normal. I'm back to work tonight for my first nightshift of three, so the more rest I get the better. If it seems to you like I am working excessively this month, you'd be right and the fun keeps going at this pace through December as well. Money, money, money come to papa. I'm really just a capitalist whore. Gimme a few hundred quid and I'll come watch tv at your house all night too.
Google is truly my friend. Putting "northlondonhippy" into Google now provides you with over two-thousand unique references to me. Ok, 2,030 to be precise, but why take this hippy's word for it, when you can see for yourself right HERE.
I'm so famous! I'm like the biggest internet celebrity that the world's never heard of....yet. My time will come. It won't be long now before you’re all wearing northlondonhippy tee-shirts and queuing up to see the feature film based on this blog! "Northlondonhippy! The Movie" (subtitled "Gimme a little yippppeee for the hippy!")" will be playing at a multiplex near you before you know it. And don't forget my upcoming Wembley Arena gigs.
It's a shame really that Wembley Stadium isn't finished yet. Maybe it will be ready in time for my next tour.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Life: Always more complicated than you expect
Me: Still the northlondonhippy...
That's from "Millionaire", the latest single released from Outkast's excellent "Speaker Boxx/The Love Below". It's Andre3000 and Kelis and it is out-fucking-standing. It's the fourth single from the amazing double album. The others were "Hey Ya", "The Way You Move" and "Roses". If you don't have it yet, you don't know what you're missing!
This hippy's up early this morning and I think you already heard me! I had to set an alarm as I'm waiting for my special delivery of 60grams of mexican p.cubes. The postman is my drug courier and he doesn't even know it!
Man, I wish you could order weed from the net just as easily, but that Utopia is still a ways off. It will come, you mark this hippy's words.
The shipping options on my shrooms were such that for a tiny bit extra, I could have it delivered before 9am, rather than by noon or 5pm.
STOP PRESS! The delivery just arrived and is in my hands as of 7:50am. What's cooler than being cool? Ice cold! I'm one happy little hippy now! And I'm in an Outkast frame of my mind, I keep quoting them, well Andre3000 actually.
My cunning plan for the day is remarkably simple. Since I'm already up early, I'm going to blitz the house and give it a bit of a clean. I may or may not bop up to my high street for a spot of grocery shopping, with the aim to have it all done by lunchtime. Then it's shroom-city for me.
Just popped open the package and my super-neato-cool rolling papers and magic mushrooms are there as ordered. The shrooms look fresh and meaty. Sometimes when you have them delivered they can be a bit, ummm, mushy. The fresher they are the better and these look just fine.
I've already stripped the bed and put the dirty sheets in the washing machine. I'm going to hoover and dust the living room, clean the kitchen and the toilets before I even think about chilling out. And the spliff I just had, well, that's just a little eye opener to have with my morning coffee.
Here’s a brief word about coffee. Hippy coffee.
I either drink filter or espresso-based coffee exclusively. No instant for this hippy! I mainly use a single cup Bodum cafetiere when I'm home, though occasionally when I’m feeling ambitious, I do make myself a fresh capppucino. Some of you might call a cafetiere a coffee-press or plunger, it’s all the same thing.
I used a single estate, ground coffee from Guatamala, it's not that much more expensive than bog-standard and it tastes much better. And rather than sweeten my coffee with sugar, I used a vanilla flavoured coffee syrup and put in a dash of ground cinnamon before topping it off with some semi-skimmed milk.
Ok, it may sound a bit poncy, but what can I say, I'm a connoisseur of all things delicious. And it's worth the little extra time and effort. Do you drink instant? Shame on you!
Well I'd love to sit here and type my own special brand of drivel for you all day, as you are the vanguard of the internet elite, but this house ain't gonna clean itself! As always the threat of me returning with a head full of shrooms looms large, but if I am lucky, I'll be so monged that typing won't be an option. Catch ya on the flipside!
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
I had a really nice lunch with my old friend, I've just returned. We went to Bodeans, which is this hippy's current favourite restaurant. I had a massive rack of BBQ ribs, yummmmza!
It was good to see my mate, hadn't seen him in a couple of years. I've known him for over 10 years and we used to work together. He's still working for my former employees. I caught up on a bit of industry gossip as well as what's been up in his life. It was all cool.
On my way back to the tube station at Oxford Circus, I ran right into a celebrity. She was chatting on her mobile phone and nearly collided with me as I meandered up Oxford Street. It was a bit of synchronicity actually, as she was featured in today's edition of The Sun newspaper. She was voted QUEEN OF THE CHAVS.
If you don't know what is meant by the word "chav", please click here.
The "Queen of the Chavs" used to be a regular cast member on "Eastenders", the popular BBC soap opera. She is probably best known for her rampant cocaine abuse, which led to her septum falling out. Don't believe me? Here's PICTORIAL PROOF, but it's not for the squeamish. She since had plastic surgery to have it repaired and claims she no longer takes drugs.
There's loads I should be doing around the house today, but the big meaty meal is making me feel quite lazy and lethargic, so I expect I'll see out the remainder of the day in full chill-out mode. After all, tomorrow's another day.
I send you fond salutations from the right side of the day for a change. I'm home, it's about twenty minutes to eleven AM, which is a time more associated with respectable, normal people than this hippy. Sometimes, even I need to conform to the rules of society, just a little bit anyway. I won't make a habit of it, I assure you.
I've been awake since around 9am, I've already read the newspapers online, checked out my sitemeter account (yes, I'm a bit obsessed), checked my emails (not a single one from a hippyfan and I'm mighty disappointed, but more on this later), had a shower and placed a small yet crucial order with my friends at EDIT.
With the recent disaster of my first Koh Samui flush, I've ordered some Mexican p.cubes from EDIT, as well as some cool rolling papers, which you can see for yourself here. These papers are partly made of tobacco and flavoured and make quite nice spliffs. I went for the chocolate and coconut flavour; I've already tried the cognac flavour and still have some left.
I wanted to get my absolute favourite blunt wraps, Royal Blunt - EZ Roll Tubes, which are moist, processed tobacco wrappers which are easy to use and taste very nice. I didn't order any since they are out of stock on my favourite flavour, which in this case is vanilla. They haven't had any of them for a while, so I'm hoping the manufacturer hasn't stopped producing them. That would be a bummer for this hippy.
Speaking of spiffs, I'm just puffing on a single king-sized red Rizla rolled in a machine, filled with a blend of tobacco and some skunky bud. Yummmm. It's only my second one of the day so far. Reminder, I've been awake for less than 2 hours. Who's a naughty hippy then?
Hey remember! I live that hippy life, so you don't have to!
The shrooms I’ve ordered are for potential consumption tomorrow. I’m gambling that the path will be clear for an afternoon spent in the company of the mushroom god. I’m working too much this month, I need to blow off some serious steam and the mind altering properties of magic mushrooms are just what my (imaginary) doctor ordered. Though if anyone knows of a doctor that would prescribe shrooms, or spliff, or Valium, or Xanax or anything tasty, please let me know! NHS doctors especially welcome!
I’ve ordered 60grams of fresh Mexican Psilocybe Cubensis, p.cubes for short. They’re the most common strain available here in the UK and they are also the cheapest. You get more weight for the money. I personally don’t think other strains of p.cubes are much stronger, but other people will disagree. I’m still hoping to do my own comparison if and when I get any Koh Samuis from my grow kit. They’re in the p.cube family, but come from Thailand instead of Mexico. I’ll let you know the results of my research. Do you think I could get a scientific grant or bursary to further my research?
I’m planning on taking the entire 60grams tomorrow, which would be a record for me. Unless I pussy-out, which I’ve done the last two previous times, where I went for 45 and 50grams respectively. I didn’t trip as hard or as much as I was hoping on 50grams, which doesn’t make sense to me because I’m not doing it that often at the moment. Perhaps every fornight to 3 weeks in the last couple of months, if that? I shouldn’t have that much of a tolerance, so I really do need to go for all 60grams, since I am really in the mood to twist my brain up but good. In a nice way of course.
As always, I might attempt a bit of blogging, while shroomed, but if the trip is strong enough, I won’t be able. It would excellent if that was the case actually, as an afternoon monged in front of some music videos is just what I need. Plus this will be my first trip with my LASERPOD, so I’m looking forward to giving it a hallucinogenic test-drive.
As usual, my plantive plea to make my blog more interactive has fallen on death ears, or rather fingers. I've yet to receive a single email from any of my legions of hippyfans. Perhaps you all would prefer to keep this continuing exchange one-sided.
As members of the vanguard of the internet elite, my hippyfans might feel it wouldn't be cool to contact me. That's an argument I can dig. You feel you need to keep me at a bit of distance to truly benefit from reading my blog. It's kind of like you need to put me on a bit of a pedestal. It's alright, worship from a-far is most acceptable to this hippy.
Though if I could find some local hippygroupies, that would be cool too. Especially if they were local sixteen-year-old girls, easy ones, ready to let me put it anywhere. Shut yo' mouth hippy!
No, you can just picture it.
***The lights come down inside the Wembley Arena, here in fabulous north London. All the seats are full, the lights go down and people rush the stage. The arena is totally dark, suddenly from either side of the stage, bright, computer controlled spotlights begin to sweep the area, the crowd goes wild! A single spotlight illuminates the centre of the stage.
The crowd starts chanting, "hipp-eee, hipp-eee, hipp-eee, HIPP-EEE,
HIPP-EEE, HIPP-EEE". I step out from the darkness and stride centre stage. I'm bathed in a bright white spotlight.
I motion to silence the crowd and there is a hush. Then I shout "Can I get a yipppeeee for this this hippy?" The audience goes clinically insane.***
It could happen. My quest for world domination is still embryonic. Just wait till it reaches its fetal stage. Once my billboards go up around central London, you won't be able to miss me!
Speaking of central London that is where this hippy is heading soon. I'm meeting an old friend I haven't seen in ages for lunch, which is quite cool. See, sometimes I make an effort to be social.
Anyway, once I announce my Wembley Arena gigs, I'll add a link to the page so you can order your tickets. But you better be quick, it's going to sell out really fast. I'm already thinking about adding extra dates!
Monday, November 15, 2004
You might notice, if you glance to the right that I've removed the BOB nomination button and replaced it with two new buttons. The new buttons are links to a couple of blog directories that I've submitted myself to and in return for them including this blog, I've added those links to my page.
They're called Blogwise and Blogarama and if you click on them, you will discover a brand new world of blogs. You'll also give this hippy some cred and improve my ranking in their rundowns if you do. You might even be able to rate the hippy and review me as well. Say nice things if you do. Go on, check it out, but not now. Finish reading what you need to here first and you need to read every word!
I've removed the BOB nomination button because I didn't make the shortlist. The final winners will be announced soon anyway, so you don't need me to send you there. Fuck 'em if they can't give me an award. Maybe that's not fair, but I did need to reclaim the space for the new links, so there you go.
It's all part of my quest to promote this blog and expand my audience. My ego needs your support! I need more hippyfans! The world needs more hippyfans! Spread the word!!
I really dig having a blog of my own and I would keep writing my own special brand of drivel whether I get more people visiting or not. It's very cool to have a forum to express my views, share my madness and tell you all about the weird, twisted world of the northlondonhippy.
I was pondering this earlier, what it means to me, being the northlondonhippy. As I've mentioned before, only 2 people know of my secret internet identity as the NLH, Mrs. Hippy and my younger (now estranged) brother. And that's it.
In real life, I'm less of a megalomaniac and egotist. I'm actually quite quiet, I hang in the background and on the fringes. Online, my voice is louder and stronger and I'm much more of an attention-seeker. I guess different facets of my personality come out in the blog; elements that normally can't be spotted when I'm just plain old me.
Sometimes I think about confessing to my friends that I have a secret internet identity, but I don't know how they would react. There's shit I write in here that I would never share with anyone I know and if they read it, they'd know too much about me. I'm actually quite a private person, which I know is a sharp contrast to the impression you get of me here online.
It's easier to share my secret thoughts with a bunch of internet strangers than with people I know. What does that say about life here in the future? I'll leave you to answer that one.
Would you want your mates to know your secret thoughts? Probably not, but who's to say. It's not like my secret thoughts are even that bad. I rarely write about who I want to kill or fuck or both. I've never hidden my drug use and it's always been an open secret that I am a dopehead, so no shame there.
I suppose some of my confessions regarding the remnants of my dysfunctional family are quite personal and I do prefer to keep that to myself. No one I work with even knows my father died two months ago and that my younger (now estranged) brother disowned me around four months ago.
I didn't handle myself very well during my father's illness and death and I admit that freely. I stuck my head in the sand and kept it there, I think in some ways I'm still an ostrich on the subject. I don't regret not seeing my father in the last 2 years of his life. What I do regret is the situation with my family that kept me away. I wish things had been different, I wish I felt I could have gone to see him. But not going, well that was the only real choice for me.
Believe it or not, there's actually stuff I do hold back from this blog. There are some aspects of my life I don't share here. Surprised? I've got reasonably clear boundaries as to what I'll write about and what I won't. I do try not to shy away from any subject that relates to me personally, but I do try not to reveal too much about the people in my life. It's not for me to tell their stories, unless they relate to me. They should all start their own blogs anyway, so should you.
Something else I was thinking about earlier is the one-sided nature of my blog. There's plenty of give, but not enough take. I want to make this exercise far more interactive. I want feedback, I want contact. I want to HEAR FROM YOU!
There are many ways to make contact with this hippy. You can leave comments on any blog entry on this page, even anonymously. You can sign my guest book. You can email the hippy, there's a mailto: tag on the right column of this page. You can also get me on Yahoo messenger, though I'm not logged into it as often as I could be. You can't telephone this hippy though, I'm ex-directory...unlisted. Go on, call directory enquiries and ask for the hippy phone number...see how far you get.
I'm very interested in what you think, about my blog, about my life, about any subject you wish. And if you want a reply, that's no problem either. I personally respond to every message I receive, though requests for signed glossy photos of me are politely declined.
Your feedback matters to me. From looking at the logs on www.sitemeter.com, I know I get regular visitors. I'm not spying on *you* personally, but I can see from the info that it grabs about my visitors that many of you are repeat customers. That's cool. Bookmark me and come back again and again and again.
Look man, I'm not asking you for money, I don't want your credit card number, PayPal details or any of that shit. I just want your thoughts and opinions which is not too much to ask for considering I'm the one blogging my life away for your entertainment. I want to be seen as approachable, so try me. Let's get a dialogue going!
Enough already. Either you'll contact me or you won't, the choice is yours.
I finally put a little time into my Koh Samui shroom kit. Sadly the time was spent clearing away the first flush, which was dead and rotting. The surface of the kit is now clean, but I don't know why I lost my first crop. I have no explanation for why it all died, but had it matured, it would have provided a decent sized yield. I didn't even bother weighing it, since I couldn't salvage anything from it. I'll give it one more chance, but if the next flush fails, that's it, it's going in the bin and I'll just buy my shrooms retail from now on.
Well I'm half-way through my final shift in this run, come 7:30am, this hippy is free until Thursday night. I think that is worthy of a medium-sized yipppppeeeee...go on, you know you want to shout yippppeeee for this hippy!
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Every night and every day....
Visit my blog once and you'll stay and stay...
This hippy just loves to play!
Hello world! Thanks for dropping by. Take off your shoes, relax and stay a while. I've got a selection of moderately priced drinks and snacks, please place your order with your friendly waitress. And don't forget to tip!
Ok, I'm already typing utter rubbish. I'll stop now.
It's Saturday night into Sunday morning, I'm working, but then where else would I be? A bar? A club? A brothel?? Get real.
Dick Cheney's bum ticker provided me with a brief flurry of activity, but the dark uberlord of American politics was discharged from hospital after a few tests. Gasp, if he died, Bush would actually be in charge. Now that's really scary!
I went back and re-read my short-story. It's not bad, but it certainly could have done with a bit of a polish. There are themes I should have brought out more and bits of plot left hanging, but over-all I'm not disappointed with it. Sadly my true talents lurk in the background and I don't actually use what little gifts I have to their fullest potential. Wah wah wah.
I should write more and I don't mean this blogging drivel. I've had an idea for a novel for years, but I lack the discipline to work on it. Ok, it's more than an idea, it's fairly well developed, it just needs someone with a bigger attention span than a goldfish to work on it. Someday, hippy, someday.
Would you read a novel written by the hippy? How about if it had all sorts of graphic sex and violence and rampant drug abuse? Got your attention now, didn't I! Ok, so you might read it, but would you buy it? Would you spend £14.99 on the hardback or would you wait for the £5.99 paperback version. Personally, I'd wait for the film, but I would download it for free.
I'll tell you what, if one of you out there is a publisher, I can offer you first rights of refusal on my novel and if you option it and give me some cash, I'll finish the first draft for you in under 2 months. I'm serious, so are you connected? Can you get me a deal? I'll cut you in for a percentage of the film rights, that is, if you let me write the first draft of the screenplay and maybe direct it too.
Oh hippy, when you dream, you dream B-I-G. That's the thing about me, no matter how much life beats me down, and fuck me if it does all the time, I still hang on to my dreams. Dreamers and fools are often mistaken for the same thing.
This hippy hit another milestone this week, I cracked 500 hits on the blog since I started keeping track back in July. And before you start thinking I'm personally responsible for most of those hits, guess again...sitemeter.com allows you to configure it so it ignores your IP address and it does with my home PC. So it wasn't me, it was all you and you and you and you and you and you and you....
As I've said before, considering I'm just one little mad ranting crazy guy in north London with no budget, no clever promotions, nothing, 500 plus hits in four months is pretty damn good. Please stand by while I pat myself on the back...
I even have a super-fan. I do. Really. I'm someone's "favoritest" blog. If you put "northlondonhippy" into Google, I bet you can find out who it is as I am not going to embarrass them here by naming them. I appreciate the support and that's no joke!
I'm still hovering around 1,970 references to the "northlondonhippy" on Google which is not too shabby either, considering I didn't coin the name until March 2003. Pretty much any search engine you try will give you loads of hits for me. Not that you need to do that, since you've already joined the vanguard of the internet elite and found my blog!
Breaking news! ODB has died. ODB = Ol' Dirty Bastard, founding member of the Wu Tang Clan. He complained of chest pains before collapsing at a Manhattan recording studio. He would have been 36 years old on Monday. See ya, ODB...!
I suppose I've rambled enough for one night and I should go back to work, or at least creating the illusion of working. Byeeeeeeeeeeee.........
Saturday, November 13, 2004
It's rare for me to finish anything, with my short attention span, but I managed to do it, even though it wasn't done within one entry. So how about that yipppeee, go on, your neighbours won't mind if you do. They're probably secretly hippyfans as well!
A special shout-out to Rikki Lee, who was kind enough to read my short-story and post some positive feedback here on the page. This hippy enjoys compliments and doesn't get nearly enough of them! Leave messages on this page, sign my guestbook, email me - I don't mind how you do it, but feedback is always a good thing!
It's the usual Friday night for me and I'm at work. It's not looking too busy which is both blessing and curse. I'm here until Monday morning, though they'll let me go home between shifts. After tonight, I've got 2 more to go, then its party time, hippy-stylie.
Or not, since my shroom grow kit is not doing very well. I've not tried to salvage it yet, but it is on my list of things to do. All the shrooms in the first flush seemed to have died and I don't know why. I need to pull them all up and start again from scratch. It's not the end of the world, as I don't know when I would have time to do them anyway. It's just a bummer that the first flush is garbage. If the kit has to be scrapped, then I might just give up on growing my own and just buy them commercially as needed. It will cost more, but the commercially produced ones tend to be bigger than anything I've grown myself.
Man, I love magic mushrooms! Screw booze, shrooms are where its at!
The weather here in London has taken a turn for the colder...they say the mercury will dip below zero tonight. That's celsius of course, or 32 degrees F for those of you who don't get C! What it means for me is I'll freeze when I go outside for a smoke and that's tobacco I'm talking about, before you ask!
You know, when I start writing about the weather, you know I've run out of material. As usual, I did have other things I wanted to write about tonight, but now that I'm logged in and blogged on, I can't recall what they are. If it comes back to me, I'll come back to you. Until then, hang loose.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Untitled Short Story (part two)
One by one the others in the group were departing, many needed to make last trains on tube lines back to the outskirts of London. Not me, I had cab fare and I was hoping I wouldn't need to use it.
Bronwyn certainly noticed the subtle attention I was paying her and she seemed flattered if nothing else. With every glance I clocked her smile, I knew things were moving in the right direction.
"Blade" was the last to leave and I could sense his disappointment that he hadn't pulled her himself. This was especially difficult for him as he perceived his role in tonight's action as pivitol. If it wasn't for his abilities as an electrician, we wouldn't have been able to break into the lab and free all the rats.
So it goes sometimes "Blade" and so goes you, right out the door.
Bronwyn opened a fresh bottle of wine and poured two glasses. She gestured for me to join her on the sofa. I didn't need much prompting.
Now I could describe to you what happened next, in vivid, lurid details, but let's be honest. You already know what happened next, at least in broad strokes you do. We did our little dance of seduction and ended up making love all night.
I knew we would the moment "Blade" departed.
That was the first night of many I spent in Bronwyn's bed. It was very good, except I had to keep feining interest in her animal activism. I was really hoping that after rat-night, I might be able to allow it lapse, perhaps even gradually sway her away from the group, but her commitment and involvement was just too strong.
I went to more meetings, but once the news broke that the rats we freed were actually genetically modified and had the potential to damage the natural ecosystem surrounding the lab, the suggestions of direction action were less frequent. That is until they picked a new cause, fox hunting.
In the interest of full disclosure, I should point out that I've never participated in a fox hunt. My late father did, but he passed away before taking me on my first hunt. My mother was never a fan of hunting herself and didn't encourage my interest. We kept my father's horses after his death at what is now my mother's country house in Wiltshire, but they were never again used for hunting. I didn't know then that they would go hunting one last time, but then how could I? I don't think Bronwyn had thought of it until we visited Mother for the weekend.
It was quite brave of me to invite Bronwyn to meet my mother, but I really didn't have a choice. My mother was insisting that I visit for the weekend, as the following Tuesday she was flying out to the Caribbean for the winter. She does this every year. Bronwyn couldn't bare the thought of not seeing me that weekend and insisted she come with me. I had no say in the matter either way.
I always had trouble saying "no" to women anyway. Call it my weakness, my fatal flaw. But just as I didn't realise what a bad omen the rats were, I didn't realise what would come of this weekend at my mother's place.
Bronwyn was impressed with my mother's house. Ok, it's an estate, set across several acres of the Wiltshire countryside. As well as the main residence, there are servants's quarters, stables and a huge landscaped gardens.
Bronwyn and I agreed she would tell my mother she is a student, as eco-terrorist just wouldn't have sat well with my mother. We actually had quite a pleasant time that weekend, we all got along and even went riding together around the estate.
On Sunday evening, we said goodbye to my mother and returned to London.
I didn't hear from Bronwyn for a couple of days after that and was begining to get slightly concerned something was wrong, but she phoned me and invited me to her place.
I arrived expecting a quiet evening for two, but what I found was the entire group. They were planning something new.
"Blade" ran down the plan, or at least a tiny portion of it. He said this was going to be their most audacious action yet. It would start on Friday afternoon and last all weekend. There base was going to be my mother's estate.
What? Did I hear correctly?
Bronwyn jumped in and explained that my mother's estate was perfect and she knew my mother would be away for quite a while. It was isolated enough and had all the facilities required for what they had planned.
"What facilities?", I asked. I was told not to worry, that the plan was strictly "need to know" and I would find out in good time.
This all made me quite nervous, but one smile from Bronwyn and I was in agreement.
I suppose now would be a good time to describe Bronwyn, as it might help to explain why I was so quick to say "yes" to using my mother's esate for their plan. Imagine Grace Kelly, like she looked in the Hitchcock film, "Rear Window", all small boned and delicate. Now time-transport her to the present day, wrap her in too-tight hipster jeans, a crop top, pierced belly-button, tatoo on the small of her back and a long, thick mane of dirty blonde hair and you've got Bronwyn. I was a complete goner.
My role in the plan was to arrive early at the estate and be ready to greet the rest of the group. That seemed simple enough. What I didn't know as I was unlocking the front door, they were kidnapping a Tory MP.
That was their plan, to kidnap a well-known Tory MP and advocate of fox hunting and use their direction action plan to change his mind about a ban.
When the stolen van pulled up the drive, I didn't know what to expect, so when I saw the group roughly help a man with a black hood over his head out of the van, I didn't know what to think. I certainly couldn't have guessed he was a well-known Tory MP.
They led their prisoner to the stable, Bronwyn seemed to be directing things. How did I not realise until now that she was in charge? They locked the MP inside the stable for the night.
The atmosphere changed after that, it became like a party. Vegetable chilli was simmering in a pot in the kitchen as Bronwyn and I set the table in the main dining room for a communal meal. We didn't say much to each other, though I very much wanted to know what they had planned for their guest.
At dinner, "Blade" recounted how the snatched the MP as he was coming out of his office on Millbank, just near the river. Bronwyn was the bait, need I explain any further. The Tory MP has a reputation as a ladies man, much to his loyal wife's disgust. He would have followed Bronwyn through the gates of hell if he thought she might give him a little, so getting him into the van was not that hard.
They still wouldn't say what would happen next. We all retired for the night.
Bronwyn and I stayed together in my mother's room. I finally asked her what was planned for the MP. She wouldn't tell me, only saying karma was to play a role.
We didn't make love that night, which is a shame, because it was my last chance with her, only I didn't know that at the time. I wish we did, perhaps I would have slept better.
The next morning, we were all up at dawn. Bronwyn asked me to take some of the others and saddle up all the horses, she and Blade were going to prepare our guest.
It didn't take long to dress the horses. We led them outside to a large expanse of open field that compromised the southern part of the estate. I could see Bronwyn and Blade approaching in the distance, but the morning fog made it difficult to make out the third figure with them. As they got a little closer, I thought I might be seeing things.
There was the Tory MP, between Bronwyn and Blade, dressed in an animal costume. He was dressed up as a fox. It was a fox suit, with a big bushy tail, pointy ears and it covered him from head to toe, with just a gap for his eyes to see out.
I could hear another van approaching at speed. It was being driven across the field by another group member. He pulled up near us and I could hear howling from the back of the van. Dogs. He had actual hunting dogs in the back of the van. I could see where this is going, I bet you can too.
This was their idea of convincing this MP to change his mind on fox hunting? They were going to hunt him like a fox! Weren't the rats bad enough? Shouldn't I have realised something was wrong then?
This was too far gone to stop, the rest is all a bit of a blur. I remember feeling dizzy, I know I didn't mount a horse and join the chase. I think I just sat down right there on the ground, too stunned to move.
But not the rest of them, I can remember Blade and Bronwyn screaming at the MP, telling him how wrong fox hunting is, letting him know he would learn what it's like for the poor fox.
They gave him a head start and he was off like a shot. They let the dogs loose and followed on horseback. They were out of my line of sight in no time.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing, a well known MP, dressed as a fox, being chased around my mother's estate by a pack of hunting dogs and crusties on horse back. And Bronwyn, well, I couldn't help feeling a little used by her.
After about ten minutes, the group returned, with the dogs and horses, but no fox, I mean Tory MP.
He got away. He escaped. He made it over the stone wall on the perimeter of the property and managed to flag down a car. Who in the world would stop their car for a grown man in a fox suit, especially one looking shit-scared and breathless? It takes all kinds, I guess.
The group panicked as well and fled, leaving me at the estate on my own. I jumped in my car and left as well, but I didn't really know where to go.
Once I made London, I headed straight for Bronwyn's flat. There was no answer at her door and she wasn't picking up her telephone either. I was running out of options.
I went back to my place on the south side of Lambeth bridge. Bad mistake, the police were waiting for me. It doesn't take a genius to realise that the MP went straight to the cops and reported his abduction and torture. He led them straight to my mother's estate, a helpful neighbour sent them straight to me.
I was arrested and charged with abduction, torture, and unlawful imprisonment. I'm sure you've read about the case. You might have even seen photos of the MP in his fox suit in the national newspapers. Well, now you know who I am, the only one charged.
Bronwyn, Blade and the rest of them, just disappeared. No one's seen any of them since.
Mother's hired a huge legal team for my defense. They have investigators trying to track down the group, but they have run out of leads. Bronwyn had sublet let her flat for cash, so there was no way to chase her down. They were all phantoms, like ghosts they just vanished off the face of the earth.
The well-known Tory MP is now even more pro-foxhunting and has made a fortune in public speaking engagements and tv appearances as a result of his increased noteriety. He's even a semi-regular on that popular comedy programme, you know the one. He pops up every week, that's right, in a fox costume.
As for me, well the "system" has decided to make an example of me and I'm looking at 25 years in prison with the chance of parole after about 8 years. Less with good behaviour.
Let this be a cautionary tale to all of your Lothario's out there. Beautiful women will always get you in trouble. And don't forget to watch out for those super-rats.
(c) November 2004 - the northlondonippy
Well there you have it. That concludes the great northlondonhippy short-story experiment. If I was a real writer, I would work on it some more and try to get it published.
But these days, I'm more of a blogger, than a writer and only my legions of hippyfans can enjoy what I produce, exclusively here on the internet! Remember, my hippyfans, you are the vanguard of the internet elite! Only the incredibly cool make it to this blog! How blessed are you?
Thursday, November 11, 2004
I haven't forgotten about my short story, I know I owe you all part two. I'm aiming to be back later today to complete the tale. As a hippy experiment in writing a short story in one blog entry, it's already a failure since I've broken it in half, but I'll still finish it. As if you had a doubt.
The reason I'm here now is to share with you a brief personal recollection of Yasser Arafat, who died last night in Paris.
Let me be more accurate, his death was announced in Paris overnight last night. We actually don't know for sure when he died. The rumours of his death have been circulating for days, and anything is possible.
Yasser Arafat was a boogeyman of my youth. His organisation was behind some rather nasty terrorist outrages, like machine-gunning airports, hijacking planes and killing Israeli athletes during the Munich Olympics in 1972. Regardless of the reasons, violence is still violence and there is never any excuse for it.
Arafat eventually publicly renounced terror, though there are some who say he never really did and was behind some of the recent attacks on Israel. He won the Nobel Peace Prize and came closer to a Mid-East peace settlement than anyone could have expected.
Whether you see him as a good man or a bad man, or perhaps a bit of both, his impact and role in the Mid-East can't be denied or underestimated. This hippy thinks he fundamentally meant well and his intentions were for the greater good of the Palestinian people.
The Palestinians don't have it easy. Even committed Zionists wouldn't argue with that very simple fact. They might dispute the reasons behind it though.
I'm not an expert in Mid-East politics, I'm barely a spectator, but Arafat's death will definitely effect the future course of events there in ways we can't predict. Perhaps it will clear the way for a more measured approach and a lasting agreement or maybe it will just make things worse. I'm sure their are experts ready to argue either side quite convincingly. Only time will tell.
I suppose I was as emotional as anyone was the day that Arafat, Yitzak Rabin and Bill Clinton appeared on the White House lawn to sign the peace agreement that wasn't. It was a sight few of us could have ever expected to see, but it left people thinking that perhaps there was hope for the future.
I didn't actually meet Arafat, but I've been in his presence. As a cameraman working in London in the late 90s, I had the opportunity to "doorstep" him several times in one day. He was here for some meetings relating to the "peace process".
My strongest recollection of the man was outside Number 10 Downing Street, where I, along with a couple hundred other journalists watched as Yasser arrived to meeting with Tony Blair.
Before entering Number 10, Arafat and his entourage stopped to address the press. I remember zooming into a close-up on Arafat, awaiting his statement. I was monitoring the audio with an earpiece and could clearly here him speaking, but his lips were not moving in synch with the words I was hearing. I thought something was wrong with my equipment.
Only nothing was wrong with my kit, someone else was speaking. Arafat's lips were trembling involuntarily so bad that I thought he was speaking. He wasn't, he was just ill. The rumour was Parkinson's disease, though I'm not certain if it was ever announced as confirmed.
I realised that day, around 6 years ago, that Mr. Arafat was not a well man or very long for this world. It's impressive he made it 75 years considering what the last couple of years have been like for him. He was confined to a few offices in his compound, the Israelis keeping him a virtual prisoner.
Whether you love him or loathe him, you can't deny that he is the father of the Palestinians and their dream of one-day having a homeland they can call their own. His legacy will live for many years to come.
On my next visit to the blog, I'll finish part two of that short story. Don’t worry, it's all in my head already, I don't want to leave you all hanging too long!
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Untitled Short Story
I should have known something wasn't right when it turned out to be rats. I hate rats. I know I'm not suppose to hate them, that I'm suppose to love all animals, but the truth is I hate them. I'm getting ahead of myself a bit here.
This has to do with a girl, well a woman. I first met her in a small, dusty local pub in west London. I didn't actually meet her that night, but I spotted her and put into motion the steps it would take to meet her and more.
I was out for a pint with a mate of mine, it was his local pub, not mine. It could have been any vaguely dark, ill-maintained public house, anywhere in the UK. The choice of ales was limited, the food selection consisted of pork scratching or stale peanuts and the unfinished tables wobbled every time you lifted your drink. Smoke hung stagnantly in the air with the odor of stale beer providing the counterbalance in the olfactory department. On the plus side it was cheap and you could always find a seat.
My friend and I had taken up residence at a small table in the corner. The stereotypical collection of old men in tweed jackets and odd hats were perched around the bar, quietly drinking themselves into a stupor and probably an early grave. You know the types, with all dashed hopes and broken dreams and no hope of ever turning things around.
Across the pub, there was an uncharacteristic site for such a small and anonymous pub, two tables pulled together surrounded by a large group of people. I suppose if I was to stay with my stereotypical descriptions, I would call this a collection of crusties and student types. I couldn't really hear what they were saying, but I could tell it was a passionate discussion, no doubt meant to be putting some aspect of the world to rights. As if anything could be solved around an unfinished, wobbly table, in some anonymous west London pub!
One person in the group caught my attention immediately, she was breathtakingly beautiful and seemed out of place with this group of cider-drinkers. I tried to catch her eye, but she was wrapped up in whatever was being discussed so heatedly.
My friend noticed my distracted state and shot a quick glance over his shoulder. He knows me pretty well and soon deduced what or rather who had me drifting away from the conversation. Actually, he knew me well enough to just let me get on with it.
Getting on with it, in my world, meant meeting her. Some people gamble, some people are addicted to drugs, for me, my addiction is women. Serial monogamy is my religion, my hobby, my drug. I knew I had to have this woman. So did my friend and he bid me a swift goodbye.
I went up to the bar and ordered another pint and positioned myself near the large group, where I could keep an eye on my prospective new girlfriend and try to hear what they were talking about.
Now I suppose a bit of a description of myself is in order. I'm not bad looking, but you wouldn't expect to see me modeling y-fronts in a magazine advert anytime soon. If anything I'm pretty average; average looks, average height, weight, build. Even my hair is average, sort of a medium to light brown colour and medium brown eyes.
Even my cock is about average in size, though I like to think above average in performance, staying power and ability to come back for more quickly. They call it the refractory period, the time it takes to get another erection after orgasm and the length of time for me has always be been quite brief. Perhaps that's more information than you really need.
My clothing is even average, jeans, demin jacket, tee-shirt. I could blend in anywhere and I do look younger than my thirty-two years. Some people think I'm still a student, but I'm not. I don't actually work, I come from a wealthy family.
My father was very rich, he's dead now. My mother, his 3rd wife, married him when he was in his late sixties, and she was in her twenties. I came along quite quickly and my father was dead before I was a teenager. He came from money too. Old money, they call it.
As well as living in a family owned flat in a posh part of London, I get a monthly allowance from the family accounts. I'm not going to lie to you say it doesn't make my life easy, because it does. I've never in my life had to worry about money, something I've seen in other people, but don't truly understand. So for me to be in this pub on a weekday afternoon, was not really a very big deal. My time is really my own.
I was getting the gist of their meeting around the pulled together tables. They were some sort of animal rights activists or protestors and they were plotting some kind of action that night. One of them got up from the table to go the bar and stood right next to me while he waited for the barman. I decided to attempt to strike up a conversation.
He was in his twenties, with a pierced eyebrow and lip. His hair was in the sort of dreadlocks that look fine on a person of colour, but look ridiculous on a white guy. He also looked like he could use a good wash, but then that's not really any of my concern.
The barman was at the other end of the long bar, serving someone else, so I had my opening. I said I overheard a bit of what they were saying and I felt quite strongly about animal rights too. He thought that was cool and suggested I join them as they were going to be taking some direct action against a research lab that night.
He purchased his round and led me to the table, some space was made and I pulled up a chair, almost directly across from my new girlfriend. I quickly introduced myself and professed my strong love of all creatures great and small.
I left out my love of bacon sarnies and crispy duck as well as my collection of leather jackets. Some things are best kept to one's self.
They welcomed me openly and explained that what they had planned tonight, while illegal, was completely moral and I was welcome to join them. They needed all the help they could get.
The plot was revealed to me quickly, which surprised me considering how audacious it sounded. They were going to cut the power to a small animal research lab, break in and free all the animals. They said the animals were being used to conduct all sorts of horrible research for the cosmetics and pharmacutical companies and it was their moral right to end this suffering.
What did I know? I just wanted to meet this girl and make her mine.
We arranged to rendezvous later on that evening and we would all travel together to the laboratory.
I went home to get ready for the evening. My flat is a bit spectacular, which I know sounds like more than bragging, but it is true. If you ever are driving south on Lambeth Bridge, you'll see what I mean, it's the big new building right there. From my windows you get a view of London that can't be beat, the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, the London Eye...it's like a picture postcard.
The flat was a gift from my mother as is just about everything else I own. She wanted me to have a nice place to live and this flat is more than nice. She had it professionally decorated and it contains every possible convenience. Here, I'll show you, since it's getting dark, all I need to do to close the curtains on my floor to ceiling windows, is to hit a button on a remote control. Pretty snazzy, eh?
It's not my fault I live in complete luxury, though I do find myself apologising for it all the time. I know how people react to it. I'm not afraid to face facts, I didn't earn any of this. I've never actually worked a day in my life and probably never will. I'm lucky, what can I tell you.
I do fill my time, I'm not idle. I have a wide variety of pursuits. I'm just not very good at any of them.
I've dabbled in painting, watercolours and oils and even sculpture. I'm rubbish. I've also tried to write and record my own music, I have a small studio here in the flat. My music is passable, if not inspired, but nothing anyone would want to listen to or pay for. It's purely done for vanity. I do enjoy it, I play guitar, keyboards and even sing, mainly rock and pop. I'm not interested in doing it professionally, just for fun and thanks to advances in PC based recording, I've got more toys at my disposal than the Beatles did when they recorded "Sgt Pepper's". I also write.
Or again, in the spirit of honesty, I try to write. What you are reading is probably the most I have written in a very long time. I like think of myself as a writer; pretend I'm one perhaps is a better description. I fancy myself as someone who experiences life as a way of informing my writing. I just don't actually write very much.
I'm hoping that's changing and these words are the first step on that path. Only time will tell and I've got lots of that now.
I decide to change my clothes for the mission tonight. I go for black jeans, a black tee-shirt and black jacket, with matching black hiking boots. I check to make sure that everything is made of natural fibers, especially the boots as a strip of leather on them could give the game away to my new radical friends. Everything is cool.
I jump on the tube to east London. We're meeting on a back street in an industrial estate. I get there just in time to see them all climbing into the back of a gray panel van. It could have been white once and just filthy. Who can say for sure now.
I hop in the back and sit on the floor with the rest of them. A couple of them are carrying large canvas carry-alls, filled with what I am assuming are the tools required to execute tonight's action. I position myself, as near to my new girlfriend as possible, there's one crusty guy between us.
I'm trying to learn as much as I can about her on this journey as well as attempting to assess whether or not someone else in the group has gotten in there first and she already has a boyfriend. That would be bad.
Her name is Bronwyn. Her posh accent belies her slightly scruffy appearance, though I notice her clothing appears as clean as mine. Perhaps she comes from money as well. That would make things easier in the long run, but if not, so what. I've dated women from every aspect of society.
That's true. My status as a serial monogamist means I had girlfriends from a wide cross-section of modern Britain. It's almost a source of pride to me just how diverse a group of women I've dated.
There's a joke I make to my mates, that if you got every woman I've ever dated into the same room, the only thing they would have in common, outside of their gender is their connection to me.
I'm not ashamed at my prolific dating recorded, not in the slightest. I've always conducted myself in an honest and honourable way.
You might see irony in this statement, considering I'm putting it out there at the same time as being in the back of a van full of crusty animal rights activists, all in the pursuit of a pretty girl, but I don't have a problem with it. I do love animals, it's just some of them taste better than others. Especially the little piggies, but let's just keep that between us for now.
As we near the destination, balaclavas are distributed to everyone in the van. It finally strikes me just how serious this is, I'm going to be committing a crime. I can feel the adrenaline surging through me, it's quite a rush.
The van pulls over and a guy they call "Blade" gets out, carrying one of the canvas hold-alls. He's gone for a couple of minutes, then returns, saying it's all done. Turns out he is an electrician and he's just cut the power to the lab. We start driving again.
The driver picks up speed and shouts "brace yourselves" as we smash through the gates of the chain-link fence surrounding the lab. We skid to a halt and all pile out of the van. "Blade" quickly pops open the entrance and switches on a torch, other people turn theirs on as well.
We stream into the building and our met by an unarmed security guard. We overwhelm him and strap him to a chair with gaffer tape. Someone gags him. They ask if there are any other security guards here. He shakes his head "no".
By now I'm dizzy with the excitement. I can't believe we are really doing this!
We find the main lab, where the experiments are conducted. Lining this large room as more animal cages than I can count, easily hundreds. It's a total frenzy as we start opening the cage doors, freeing the residents. The residents are all rats, every last one of them. I hate rats.
My hatred of rats comes from an incident from my childhood. Let’s just leave it at that for now.
Soon there are rats running loose everywhere. They are all white, with big pink eyes. They are repulsive to me, but I don't let this show. Once all the cages are open, we start to herd them all towards the front door of the building. I never tried to herd rats before, but it's not easy, not like cattle or sheep. Not that I've ever herded them anywhere either, but I imagine it would be easier.
Eventually we get them all out the door and they scatter in every direction. No one sings "Born Free" thankfully. Actually, none of these rats were born free, they were bred in another lab specifically for research.
And as I would discover later, they were all genetically modified anyway, again specifically for research purposes. The implications of this fact were severe as it meant the research lab had lost out financially on this, these rats sold for three-grand a pop. And even worse for the environment, these genetically modified rats would mate with the indigenous rats, possibly creating a new race of super-rats.
You might have read about the super-rats in the newspapers since. That was us. Thankfully they never found out it was us. We free over 300 rats that night, at three-thousand pounds each, that's over nine-hundred-thousand pounds sterling of genetically modified lab rats. I wouldn't have wanted to payout on that one!
It turned out the van was stolen and we dumped it and set it a light. We walked a fair distance as a group and went back to Bronwyn's loft in Farringdon to celebrate our victory. At this point we weren't aware of the financial or environmental implications of our actions. We wouldn't have cared about the money, but the environmental thing would have been a bummer.
Being at Brownyn's flat for the remainder of the evening was a major bonus to my campaign to win her affections. This was a dynamic I could understand, be the last man standing and reap the rewards. I just had to outlast every other group member and be the last one here at the end of the evening. Once it was just the two of us, I knew she would be mine.
TO BE CONTINUED..........
(c) November 2004 - the northlondonhippy
Ok, I know I'm about halfway through my story, but I've decided to take a little break. I hope you are digging reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I promise I'll come back and finish it just as soon as I can!