The sudden rush of air as I stood on the escalator yesterday,
combined with the strong smell of weed, turned the exit of Camden Town tube
into a massive bong.
You don’t expect using public transport to lead to an
impromptu forced drug-ingestion, but apparently in NW1, that’s the way it goes.
It calls to mind when Shredded Wheat used to have a factory next to Welwyn
Garden City Railway Station; passing through at speed would result in the
distinct odour of Ian Botham’s favourite breakfast cereal clouding the air. It
was akin to balancing a thin line of crushed wheat on the side of your index
finger and snorting it like snuff.
(…the things you do when you’re a student.)
I wasn’t particularly happy about the sudden hit of the
dreaded herb. Being stoned is the last thing you want when you’re about to do a
show, either in the smoking or the rock-based punishment sense; both add
an extra, stressful layer to proceedings; I have enough of an internal monologue
going on when I’m mid-performance, without adding the need to listen to
mid-Sixties’ Dylan too, or the work of that other pot-addled Bob figure, Bob Marley.
Being forced to passively-smoke marijuana on your way out of
Camden Town station is one thing, but it could have been worse: I could have
been on London’s longest Underground escalator at Angel tube. If so, I would
have left my clothes in a pile by the door and danced away to the tune of Tide
of the Season by The Zombies (which is a very niche Simpsons reference.