Chapter Five Not Mushroom in Here
Chapter Five
Not Mushroom in Here
‘You want us to sit in Gormley, and drop magic mushrooms?’
‘I do!’
Jack goes momentarily slack of jaw, before eventually gathering himself up enough to respond. ‘Have you gone stark staring mad?’
‘No, I have not.’
‘Yes, you have,’ Annie says, getting up from the kitchen table in a swift movement. ‘It’s a crazy idea, Charlie. You know it is.’
I shake my head in defiance.
I knew I’d get this kind of pushback.
But I am thoroughly prepared for it.
Hence the stack of papers in front of me.
Which I now begin to sift through. ‘I’ve done extensive research,’ I point out.
‘This isn’t some half-arsed experiment I’m proposing, Annie.
I am taking solid, proactive steps to solve my problems with a holistic approach.
’ I don’t want this to sound like something I’ve just read off ChatGPT, but it does, because it is.
‘Nautilus assures me that there is a great deal of medical evidence to support the concept of psilocybin mushrooms having great therapeutic effect on trauma-related conditions.’
‘Nautilus’s real name is Barry,’ Annie states in a tone that barely manages to contain her obvious frustration. ‘And you only met him last week, because Zitana put you on to him.’
‘So?’
‘So, you’re going to take the advice of a bloke called Barry – who’s renamed himself after a submarine, and someone that you’ve known for less time than you’ve had a bottle of milk in the fridge?’
My attempts at reassuring her I know what I’m doing obviously aren’t working.
I hold up some of the papers. ‘But I have done extensive research as well,’ I protest.
Annie lets out an exasperated grunt. ‘I give up. You try, Jack. Maybe he’ll listen to you? He’s known you for much longer than me.’
‘Annie’s probably right, Charlie. This does all sound a bit dodgy,’ Jack says, shaking his head.
Ha!
You see that ‘probably’ sat right there?
A man can work with a ‘probably’ . . .
‘Look, I’m not saying it’s guaranteed to have any effect, but I still think the evidence shows that it’s worth a try. And I’m talking about a very, very low dose. Nautilus was very insistent on that.’
‘Barry. His name is Barry,’ Annie reminds us both. ‘And Barry is not a trained healthcare professional. You need to go to see a doctor.’ She looks at Jack. ‘And it sounds like you do too, Jack, from everything Charlie has told me.’
Jack holds up his hands. ‘Hey, hey. Let’s not get crazy here. I don’t think me not being keen on wide-open spaces is a good enough reason to go see an actual doctor.’
‘Exactly what I’ve been trying to say!’ I agree wholeheartedly.
Annie’s eyes bulge for a moment in disbelief. Possibly at the entire male species. ‘I . . . I can’t . . . I . . .’ she stammers, before letting out another loud gasp of exasperation, and exiting the kitchen, her feet stomping down the hallway.
Jack watches her go, before turning back to me with a slightly shocked expression on his face. ‘Bit much, eh?’
‘I know,’ I agree. ‘She’s being a bit weird about this whole thing, to be quite honest with you.’
‘Well, women are a strange and exotic species,’ Jack replies in a knowing tone of voice.
‘She does mean well, though,’ I tell him – and somewhere, far off in the depths of deep space, a creature of bizarre shape and incredible dimension looks up from the purple leaf it’s munching its way through, and shudders at the sheer enormity of how patronising I’ve just been.
‘I’m still not sure about this whole magic mushroom thing,’ Jack says, allowing the creature to go back to its lunch.
‘Not the first time we’ve taken hallucinogens,’ I say.
‘We were a lot younger and a lot dumber back then,’ he argues.
‘They didn’t do us any harm at Glastonbury . . .’ I cajole. ‘Made it even better, as I recall.’
Jack folds his arms and thinks for a moment. ‘I’m not saying an outright no, but I’m not saying yes, either. And I’m not going anywhere near it unless Leo agrees.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade him.’
Jack makes a doubtful face. ‘I’m not so sure, Charlie. Leo was never one for hallucinogenic drugs, you know that. He always stuck to the mild stuff. He’ll take some persuading. I bet you’ll have a harder time than you think.’
‘We’ll see,’ I say with a smile.
‘Stop looking at me like that,’ Leo says uncomfortably as we all stand in front of Gormley on the driveway of Jack’s semi-detached, on what is turning out to be a typically grey UK evening.
‘No, Leo,’ Jack replies. ‘I am not going to stop looking at you like this.’ His arms fold. ‘I was counting on you to say no to this frankly idiotic scheme of his. I was relying on you to be the voice of reason.’
‘He sounds pretty convinced about the whole thing.’
‘Of course he does!’ Jack leans forward slightly, his eyes widening. ‘That’s Charlie. Sounding convincing about the whole thing is his raison d’être.’
‘You could have said no,’ Leo quite rightly points out.
Jack shakes his head. ‘No, no. We’ve long established that he can talk me into doing stupid shit, Leo. You’re supposed to be the sensible one among us. The smart one. It wasn’t you he had in the mankini, was it?’
‘I guess not.’
‘So, why in the name of ever-loving Christ did you let him convince you this was a good idea? You’re my backstop, Leo. You’re my last line of defence. My bulwark against the insanity!’
‘He showed me a lot of paperwork.’
‘Hitler had lots of paperwork too, Leo!’ Jack remonstrates. ‘Piles of the stuff, I’m sure! You don’t invade Poland without a lot of admin behind you!’
‘You’re getting a bit carried away, Jack,’ I say to him, shivering a little. ‘Can we get inside Gormley? I’m cold.’
‘Quiet, you,’ he says, with a stern expression on his face. ‘You are responsible for my current predicament, and therefore your mild discomfort is none of my concern.’
‘I’m cold too,’ Leo says.
This earns him a dark look.
But then Jack fishes into his pocket and pulls out the keys to the ancient mobile home. Continuing to look at us both very sternly, he moves towards Gormley’s door and then turns to open it.
It’s been years since I sat in Jack’s pride and joy.
I wonder if the strange smell has gone away?
No. Probably not. It’s probably got even worse.
There were no doubt other, better places I could have suggested for our therapeutic mushroom session, but Gormley still has a warm place in my heart – despite the smell.
It was the scene of many a fun and exciting trip with me and my two best mates, and it feels appropriate to use him once again for this purpose.
A bit of comfortable familiarity might help things go a little smoother.
I’m confident that this will go well . . . but taking magic mushrooms is still somewhat anxiety inducing, even at such small doses. Gormley’s familiar rustic and rusting interior should keep that anxiety to a hopeful minimum.
. . . no.
I have no actual idea why it’s called Gormley. Jack just started calling it that about a week after he bought it, and that was that.
It is the most incongruous, but at the same time, the most utterly perfect nickname for the rusting mobile home. If it could speak, it would speak in the voice of something you would absolutely call Gormley.
‘Right, in you come, then,’ Jack tells us both. ‘Apologies for the smell. I’ve not had time to air him recently.’
It’s not actually that bad, to be honest. It’s a musty, old smell, rather than anything too obnoxious and . . . recent. If anything, the smell is sparking off some very happy memories for me, which is exactly what I was hoping for.
Even Jack and Leo have somewhat wistful expressions on their faces as we all pile into Gormley. The fear of what I have planned for tonight is temporarily overpowered by extreme nostalgia.
The three of us sit on the thin brown sofa cushions that surround Gormley’s little Formica table at the rear of the mobile home.
Given the vehicle’s rather diminutive size, the space around that table is cramped, to say the least. Getting into a sitting position is not the work of a moment.
There’s a lot of sliding about and knee bashing going on.
God help us if there was an emergency, because getting back up and out again takes even longer.
This won’t be the first time we’ve sat like this and filled ourselves with intoxicating substances.
We did Glastonbury three times in Gormley, and I think half the smell that still lingers in here is due to the amount of ‘herbal remedies’ we consumed between bands.
Leo probably remembers more of those heady days than Jack or I do, thanks to his moratorium on anything stronger than a joint.
Ah, to be young again . . .
Young people don’t suffer with chronic insomnia and unexplained panic attacks due to car crashes.
They laugh such incidents off on their way to the next festival.
I seem to remember Jack losing control of Gormley on a wet road one year, and nearly ploughing us into an oak tree, back when we were in our early twenties.
He ran the side of Gormley down the bark of the tree, leaving a long dent that remains there to this day.
I think we actually laughed about the near-catastrophic accident after it had happened.
People in their early twenties are immortal.
And extremely stupid.
The look on Leo’s face tonight assures me that at our advanced age, nobody thinks they’re immortal anymore. Not when it comes to magic mushrooms, anyway.
‘I’m really, really not sure about this,’ Leo tells me, rubbing his face anxiously.
‘Honestly, mate, it’s going to be fine,’ I try to assure him.
Jack harrumphs in a way his twenty-two-year-old self would have been thoroughly ashamed of. He certainly wouldn’t have sat with his arms crossed and a suspicious look on his face as I produced a small bag of illicit drugs from my pocket, either.