We had a game we`d play sometimes at Wyldling Hall, after we`d have a good day and night of rehearsing and smoked a few spliffs — Julian got very good hash from a bloke in Notting Hill. We`d all hold our hands and shut our eyes. Then, without speaking, we`d drop our hands, and one at a time we`d open our eyes. All without talking. We thought that maybe, just maybe, if we did it at the right moment, in the right place, with the right people, we`d open our eyes and we`d be somewhere else.
I don`t know where. Just someplace we`d never been. Some impossible place. It never worked. Not with me, anyway. I was never that stoned. Sometimes I wish I had been.