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After
The Cup ______________________________________________ Friday 28th November
I came to slowly. My mouth was dry & my tongue was furry. I was hung over. My stomach felt unpleasant. I was depressed.
“Well I fell out of bed this mornin’ Saw what the guy on T.V. said The big rock awards Crowned a brand new king It should have been me instead Don’t they know I’m Elvis Fucking Christ”,
The Cramps, ‘Elvis Fucking Christ’ 2003
The Hotel had come an awful long way since I’d first found it, back in April 1998, with a hand written sign on the door saying they weren’t open until May. The staff had put in an awful lot of very hard work to make the place what it was. You got that sort of family feel when you walked in. Sure there were imperfections, but that was mostly down to the Landlord not the good folks who staffed H.H..
Maybe I was getting things out of perspective.
Maybe.
The bang on the head seemed to be making me see things differently. Like maybe the casts had been knocked from my eyes. That rosey tint I’d always seen Amsterdam through had utterly disappeared. My eyes were looking at things in a much colder light. I didn’t like anything I saw.
Breakfast was a subdued affair with guests all feeling the worse for partying the night before. Some came to breakfast with fresh cases of flu. What was I going to do today ? Part of me wanted to look into seeing if I could bring my flight forward. Part of me wanted to go to Haarlem. The part that had shelled out for a Judge Pass, & been charged twice for one item, & had to fill a lot of forms out at the bank to claim the money back said that I should make use of it. After all, I was here to do some smoking. I had lost interest in the subtleties of taste & effect since the bang on the head, but I felt that returning as I considered my next move.
A Coffeeshop crawl sounded good.
While
I sat making up my mind it was pointed out that Lali had brought in
a fresh wheat free loaf for my next couple of breakfasts. Jokes were
made about how at least I was still being fed. I wasn’t amused,
but bantered back. Was there a message in there somewhere ? I didn’t
think so. At 4:15 pm I was hovering in & around the Greenhouse Centrum Coffeeshop waiting to see signs of the big A, as he’s known, & other likely party people. It’s tradition every year to go to the winning coffeeshop at 4:20 pm & have a Winners Party. Inside the place was wall to wall America. Boys from the ‘hood mixed with Hippies, longhairs & first timers. Some of them had spliffs so large & phat they looked ridiculous, like cartoon joints.
It was all very ‘in crowd’, and wasn’t Greenhouse wonderful blah blah. Then the big A turned up with an American woman from MTV with a camera. You see that Yoof T.V. where they have all that designer camera shake, imagine that. There she was, old enough to be my mother, fucking around with her camera in an attempt to get them ‘groovey spaced out whacky’ oh so trendy camera angles. A straight still camera reveals a lot more luv. Maybe she was really stoned.
Others flocked about the big A outside the shop. Cameras flashed, stupid questions were asked, Smoking Mary Jane stood slightly to one side. I got chatting to her for a while about MTV covering the event while the photographers, question askers & brown noser’s dispersed. I was surprised that MTV were actively promoting/covering an event like the High Times Cannabis Cup. From behind somebody took me by the elbow. Turning from Mary Jane I saw it was the big A himself. He made a point of shaking my hand before slipping out of the cold & into his shop with Mary Jane close behind.
The Cup was over. Looked like I’d seen all there was to see here. The shop was too full & smokey to go inside & get comfortable. Time to go find somewhere to smoke. Oolong tea was calling me.
Back in the H.H. bar I got comfortable at my usual place at the bar with a pot of Oolong tea, my clay bong, & a good selection of hash. It was more than time to get serious about the smoking. In my note book I wrote;
Wooden Shoes, El Guapo
Is a soft Moroccan. Good taste. No burn in the nasal passages. Bubbles when fired. Very pleasing for Moroccan. Quite strong too. A morning smoke. (7.9/10)
Afghani First Crème, Pink Floyd
Excellent taste. Shiney to look at, plyible in seconds when handled, bubbles, melts, very potent but clear high. No trace of stoned. Tastes a little summery, the flavour of outdoor sunshine.
American John’s friend Ben joined me with his glass spoon pipe & gave me a pinch of some Ice-O-Later hash.
Ice-O-Later hash; Ben
Loose trichiomes, sandy texture& look. Light fresh taste. Gives a slight cough after exhilation. Second toke leaves me gagging for air & coughing hard. Painful experience. Nice hit though. Acrid scouring smoke. (4.8/10)
I moved onto the hash samples I’d found the night before. Dancing away to the Cannabis Cup band I’d got talking to a girl & we both discovered a baggie at our feet containing two large lumps of hash. We split the find.
Found No.1
Some type of Moroccan. Harder but still thumbnail submissive. Melts slightly, but only slightly. Nothing special about the taste. Just good commercial. Nasal burner.
Found No.2
Soft black, slow burning, non-melt soft taste, easy to hold in. Not especially strong, but pleasant commercial Nep(?). (7/10)
Soma Jelly Hash
Black semi solid. Taste is sort of fresh air fruity. Bubbles when exposed to heat. Head spinney hit. Strong. Becomes tacky when handled but becomes firm when allowed. Bubbles like a bubble bath when exposed to a flame. Long lasting, continues to bubble after the fourth hit. Subtle flavourful taste which reminds me of Nepalese hash. Very potent. I put a double pin head hit into the pipe. I’ve had about half a dozen hits off it& am feeling it. Having trouble finishing it. (9.7/10)
It was at this point Lali, Cathy & the baby came into the bar. I packed my stuff up & left the bar. Sampling session over. I wasn’t ready to engage in a discussion which may become heated. Especially with a fresh born child in the room just a fortnight old.
_________________________________
I had arranged to meet Yoshi that night in the lobby of the Grand Hotel Krasnapolsky. The big posh one in Dam Square with the carpet outside & the Commissionair on the door. I got there on time just as the Philosopher Stones I’d eaten earlier were coming on. Nice. I settled in one of the posh leather sofa chairs to wait. Did a leather clad stoner on the mushroom rise look out of place in this plush surround ?
Only as much as Elvis Fucking Christ.
Yoshi arrived & we headed out into the night. Ending up at Siberie for a smoke & cup of hot tea. After a while we went back to the Krasnapolsky to meet Johnny & Jenny Greene. Johnny & Jenny were full of flu & in bed when Yoshi & I entered their rooms. For the rest of the evening we chatted about all things weed, the Cup, laws, trade, weather prescription meds, natural flu remedies & a host of shit that I forget because I was tripping. At some point past 1:30 am I started systematically emptying the mini bar. I went through the whiskey first, then the Brandy.
It was just as well. When we left at something past 4:30 am Yoshi & I saw three brass monkeys crying their eyes out.
Yoshi went one way, I another. Recovering the bike from the lamppost I’d lashed it to on Rokin my body began to jerk involuntarily with the cold. Fuck sake, it had to be –4 out here. I jumped on the bike & pedaled like fuck for three reasons. First to get some heat going, second to get out of this cold before I got hypothermia. The breeze on my knees & legs was painful. Like I was wearing no pants. Third to get off the street in case a bored police person felt like doing one of the increasingly less random stop & searches. A whole Metro station had been closed & every person inside it searched just a day or so ago. I had more than 5g of smoke about me.
All was quiet by the time I got to H.H.. I got into my room still shivering but warming. I could feel some heat coming from the radiator. Ace, it was working. I took off my leather, kicked off my shoes & pulled the covers over me curling into a shivering ball. It was 5:00 am, just six hours till breakfast. “The world blows so cold Around scores of concrete plinths In the Metropolis we live in Stand the Presidents men The ones I have to deceive To win the prize I want to win”
Toyah, ‘Demolition Men’ 1981 ______________________
Saturday
29th November “Are we just killing time Waiting for a sign Like a battle cry Or a long goodbye no no”
‘Ground Level’, Stereo MC’s 1992
At 10:38
am I was up & moving. I had planned on going over to Haarlem today
but I needed to sort a few things still. With all the Cup traffic
certain people were unreachable. Now it was over a lot of people were
leaving town today. That meant things could again be discussed in
a civilized unhurried manner. Today was my opportunity to conclude
any unfinished business I had. As breakfast was finishing one of the guests told me there had been an exchange of words in the bar the previous night in which my name was mentioned. It had come from someone’s observation that I had been two nights absent from the bar.
I was happy, still, to make it three in a row.
_________________________
I hung out that afternoon at the Pollinator Co., after going about town, though I had some trepidation in joining the gang at the big table. Lali was with them. Inwardly I sagged. I wasn’t in the mood for unpleasantness. Then again, if it was to be that we were to have more words I couldn’t think of a better place.
I started rolling an Ital as general chatter ensued. For the next hour or so I occasionally added to the banter while Lali, it seemed, was at least being civil to me. I could be civil & polite too, & so it went on perhaps another hour.
I left to go pick up a copy of ‘Opium; A Portrait Of The Heavenly Demon’ by Barbara Hodgson from Concious Dreams on Wamoesstraat, feeling more optimistic about my stays final outcome. I still had a lot of reservations, but things were improving & I still had almost two full days before I left town. Perhaps the damage could be repaired.
____________________
Back at the H.H. bar a bit later I got back to work on the smoking samples.
Cheese Weed, Tessa/Hpmegrown Fantaseeds
As the name suggests, it stinks, Nice fresh bud, dry & sticky. Tastes full & fruity. Very smooth & tasty. Very enjoyable. Not over potent but strong enough.
Jelly Hash, Blue Velvet
Soft black gooey stuff that will stick to the bag. Quite smooth & tasty. Slightly odd aftertaste. Head rush material. Strong stuff. Unsettling hit. Not pleasant. (7/10)
Red Lebanese, Prize Draw at H.H.
Rich creamy unmistakable full taste. Smooth cool smoke, fast burning. Easy to hold in. A clear more balanced high. Is not over strong but certainly potent. Upful alert high, pleasing & comfortable. Nice head rushes with every toke. (8.7/10)
_________________________________
Saturday night in Amsterdam. I wasn’t in the mood. I’d done just about everything that week anyway. More than once in some cases. I left eating late & took a ride-a-bout afterwards. When I got back to H.H. bar Yoshi, Johnny & Jenny were there waiting for me. We chatted a while before they left with some pipes.
I stayed away from the bar itself, but I was in the bar tonight. I wanted to see if Lali was going to continue being civil as she had been that afternoon. If so, then perhaps I’d hear what I wanted. I settled at one of the little tables away from the bar with Ben & started knocking down ciders at a relaxed pace. Lali was still being polite & civil, but no more. After half a dozen ciders, I went up to bed.
“Well I wait around the train station. Waiting for that train. Waiting for that train. To take me, from this lonesome town. Well now there’s going to be some changes …..”,
Jimi Hendrix Experience, ‘Hear My Train A Comin’’, BBC Radio One Sessions 1967
___________________________
Sunday 30th November
“Things are wrong. Things are going wrong. But can you tell that in a song ? Losing sense of those part of things. Is this the Blues I’m singin’ ?”,
Ian McNabb, ‘Your Pushing Too Hard’ 1996
______ “All I ever wanted was a love & peace & harmony I could dance in the raw in the sun underneath the stars When I walk over to my money tree ain’t nobody there Trying to take from me When they ask are you free ? I’d say ‘yes truly’”,
Macy Gray, ‘A Moment To Myself’ 1999
At 2:40 pm I was sitting overlooking the bar area in Pink Floyd. Floyd was the second coffeeshop I visited on my first trip to Amsterdam. But it had been the first ‘real’ coffeeshop I’d ever been in. We had been at The Jets across the road first, before meeting others.
Viper skinning an Ital, second floor in Pink Floyd
That had been November 1990. Things had changed an awful lot since then, except inside Floyd. When I first came to town on that trip with Mic, & the others, I was very ignorant about marijuana & hashish. Although by then I’d been smoking it four years. During that first trip I was to learn that there were a variety of hashish’s from every continent & country in the world, almost. I had only seen Moroccan.
I made the decision during that trip to become knowledgeable about what before had just been something I used to cut down my drinking & relieve my depression. I had seen there was a whole culture around the practice of smoking ‘erbs. I was determined to find out more about it. I was on the dole at the time, doing some part time gardening work. I had no idea where to seek out those who knew more on the subject than I & the lads I hung with.
For the next five years I returned to Amsterdam on an annual pilgrimage to widen my knowledge. I always waited until I had people to come with. Christmas 1995 was my first solo mission. I really learned a lot on that trip. I found Greenhouse Namaste on Cristmas day & walked out the door after smoking White Widow for the first time feeling like I was tripping.
On 25th May 1996 I finally found & set foot in the fast becoming legendary Positronics Grow Shop. It was a huge & sprawling establishment as I remember it. There were rooms packed floor to ceiling with growing equipment & stuff I had never heard of, let alone seen before. All I knew after looking around the place was that I had found the focal point of Amsterdam’s cannabis culture. I didn’t stay very long, I had to go see if I could find Mic, but I promised myself I’d be back.
I remember taking a seat at the big table in the back while I was there & enjoying one of the free/donation coffe’s while I chatted to a guy called Vern who had just developed a strain called Snow White. I smoked a spliff of that & had to go back to my hotel for a lie down. I had never been that high before. I just hoped I’d meet up with Mic later at the Grasshopper where the gang had based themselves. The night before I had lost Mic, & the rest of the Stag gang, in the Red Light District while taking a piss. I had all Mic’s gear in my room too.
Positronics went bust between then & my next visit, so I never got the chance to go back. I was not to know then that I would get to know those who would take over the old Positronics unit & look upon some of them as extended family members.
For the next few years I continued coming & staying in different hotels & B&B’s, sometimes getting a good place sometimes not. I dreamed of a place that I could come to that catered exclusively to people like myself. Wouldn’t it be fantastic if there was such a place. Can you imagine how I felt when I read a short paragraph in Weed World magazine at the beginning of 1998 that announced such a place was to come into existence ? I was elated.
On 22nd April 1998 I located the Hemp Hotel. There was nothing but a handwritten sign on the door to say the place would be open in May. The following week, I think. From the outside I was unimpressed, but hopeful.
When I got home I scoured the weed press for any more mentions of the place. Had they opened ? When I went to Amsterdam again that August I found the place was open. On Friday, August 28th 1998 I came face to face with my dreams as I entered the door of the Hemp Hotel. It was like walking into a tardis. The bar was the most impressive with the amount of art work that had gone into it. This was when I first met Lali & Merl.
Very shortly it felt to me that I’d finally found a spiritual home. This was the place I’d dreamed of, or at least I could see it was going to be. After talking to Lai & Merl I was convinced that these were folks to support in every way possible. I think I even made my reservations for the 1998 High Times Cannabis Cup while I was there.
From my first stay I was their’s. I supported the place heart & mind & have defended it many times against those who would knock it for being a bit down at heel. The idea & the concept was far more important than a little inconvenience from time to time. Most problems stemmed from Landlord disputes & could not in all fairness be laid at the door of H.H. or their staff anyway.
Over the years the people I have met & spoken to in the Bar have pointed the way to information & educated this simple punter into something close to expert. I owe them a big thank you for that, & it was with this in mind I began my web site. I spoke to everybody about the Hemp Hotel, & they all wanted to know more & see what I was talking about. When I was told last Christmas that the place was due to close the following March I was beside myself. I considered it the greatest tragedy since Thatcher came to power.
All I could think to do was create a virtual Hemp Hotel were at least former guests could walk about the place & have something to stimulate their memories. The whole place seemed far too important to let it slip silently out of existence with nothing left to remember it by.
Though I have had some very positive responses to that part of the viperslair.co.uk site (no longer displayed) from across the globe it was more than brought to my attention that Lali thought differently Monday night.
I sat there in Floyd considering what to do next. I hadn’t wanted to upset anybody but obviously I had. Perhaps that’s the price for treading fresh ground. All I knew was I wasn’t going to be staying there again. I could see little point in staying with folks that didn’t appreciate my presence. I certainly hadn’t imagined being shut out in the cold Wednesday night, nor the attitude that followed or preceded it.
On the up side, Lali was the only one I was having problems with. All other staff members were treating me in the usual friendly way. Guests & bar regulars that had met me before seemed pleased to see me again & learn of my development. New folks I was meeting seemed to think I was O.K., so there wasn’t any need to get on a paranoid one.
While I sat there pondering, Mic Buckley’s ghost came to join me. I could see Mic casually stroll in through the door of Pink Floyd like I’d seen him do many times. He would glance up to see if I was there yet, I would be because he was always late, before acquiring a coffee or fruit juice & joining me & rolling up a joint. I could see him sat there grinning at me in that I’m about to mercilessly take the piss out of you way he had.
Mic; stoned immaculate on the train home from Central 1990 (enhanced photo)
“What are you doing ‘ere mate ? Life’s too short to be worrying about curtain rails. You want to fuck all this shit off. You have your contacts now. You know who they all are & how they operate. You can get weed & hash back home, mushrooms too now. No need to come here for any of that shit anymore ………”
Fuck ! I could hear him talking to me. Worse, what he was saying was all true. I’d even done most of the tourist things too. What did I need to come back to town for now ? I knew less than ‘a few’ & more than most. It would only be for trade, not pleasure. Maybe I could start taking ordinary holidays now.
I touched my face. The bruising had almost disappeared, but it was still very tender in places. I thought about what Mic would have made of the Cannabis Cup. Like enough he would have run around the first day or so building up a very excellent stash, then found somewhere comfortable to hold up & take the piss out of the Hippies in their clown suits while he smoked it. He would have called the event a money making circus.
Mic wasn’t here though was he ? He was twelve months dead & gone & those of us that drank with him & got high with him were told about the service for him after the event.
I came to some decisions & left.
________________________________
That night I was in the bar because I had arranged to meet Yoshi, Johnny & Jenny. They were going to help me kill a bottle I had open. Johnny had come back for a copy of the Chris Bennett book & the spare bottle of Absinthe that I had. I was very pleased to recover my outlay on that particular item.
Relations between myself & Lali were formal, polite & without any visible chill. I was pleased that we could at least still speak to each other. I might have decided I wasn’t going to stay here again, but that didn’t mean I was turning my back on the place or the people involved with it. I was deeply fond of most of them & I really didn’t want to loose touch with any of them, I wished them all well, but it was time to move on. Like the old guy in the blues film Crossroads said,
“It’s time to take it past were you found it.”
I had a good night in the bar chatting to the remaining Cup guests & regulars. It emerged that a weed journalist from England had been caught taking specific photographs of one of the Pollinator machines. The journalist’s friend is set to market a Pollinator type device modeled on Mila’s invention, just like he did with the bags, so I am told.
Just before going up to bed I got into a very interesting conversation with Bill about seed strains & breeding. It was from Bill I learned what Rock Bud was, K2 x White Widow. I myself brought seeds of that variety from a Liverpool breeder with me & gave them to both Cannabis College & Homegrown Fantaseeds over twelve months ago. The Liverpool grower can claim no copyrights, but he was first.
The conversation progressed naturally enough & we began talking about seed companies. It was at this point the conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by Lali. For some reason best know only to herself she had taken it into her head that I was looking to dig up dirt on a particular breeder that sometimes drinks in the bar. The breeder was not part of the conversation. The company had been mentioned because we were talking about seed strain availability & genetic heraldry. Nothing more.
“You tell him nothing ……….”,
Lali went on for a couple of minutes about what sort of bastard she assumed I was. I could feel my blood rise. So that’s the way she wanted it was it.
Fine.
Have it that way, just don’t complain about it later & remember – Lali gave me the name, so maybe I’ll play the game.
I was just a punter again.
Allied to none.
“I only want a place to rest my head. But then if looks could kill I might as well be dead.”,
‘Stranger On The Town’, The Damned 1982
_______________________________
Monday 1st December
“Life goes on and on and on If you think its all gone wrong Go on and on and on”,
‘Life Goes On’, The Damned 1982
I settled my account over breakfast. The curtain rail was broached by Vicky. My answer was the same,
“As soon as I see the receipt.”
I wasn’t leaving town until tea time, & I was coming back for my bags. I had very little to do today. Some paper work needed taking care of, I had to take back the bike & my stash needed smoking. That was all. I had organized myself the morning before leaving out only what I stood in & what I intended wearing to go home in.
Checking what time Vicky would re-open after doing the rooms I left to complete my business in town, returned the bike & returned to settle in at the bar for perhaps the last time.
Hand
Rubbed Nepalese, No Idea Loose fall apart texture. Light fluffy stuff, great crème aroma. Smooth full crème taste Can easily be held in. Wonderful but fast dissipating after taste. Rather potent too. Dreamy clear high makes everything, limbs, heavy. Excellent hashish. (9.7/10)
Northern
Lights Skuff Sandy green look to it. Very brittle & soft. Very soft flavour, very tasty almost crème like.
Lali appeared, & presented the bill for the curtain rail. She did not present the receipt. She had had 15 full days to find it since we had spoken on the phone about it.
“If I say it costs that much then it does. I did add in some inconvenience money because it wasn’t done for a fortnight.”
I’d also found out she had sold the Rum I left in October as shots. She told me herself because she said, she was surprised how popular that particular bottle was. She said she had then read the label & realized it was mine too late. It’s easily done, & I’m happy it was enjoyed, but just how many ways did this girl want her cake ?
She had made on the bottle, probably £20-00 or more in shots, I reasoned, as there had been two thirds of a bottle. Inconvenience money ?
Was I paying here for someone else’s incompetence ?
It wasn’t as if I hadn’t offered to go get the stuff with Ire’ at the time. I could stand here & argue the point all night, but that would have taken more out of me than I would gain from it. With more grace than it was taken, I paid. Lali was too damned ready for a fight. It wouldn’t matter what I said now. She would only hear what she wanted to.
Perhaps if Cathy wasn’t up to the job that day because she was pregnant then it would have been better off if she was at home, taking care of herself & the expected arrival. I can only judge on how I might have insisted she not work once pregnancy was well established for fear of her injuring herself at work. I wouldn’t have fancied the insurance claim if anything had happened. But that’s just my opinion.
I wish Cath, the baby & Irenao all the very best for their future.
I finished my last smoke, said my goodbye’s to Ben & others & organized myself with a taxi from the stand outside.
I was most unhappy. I had lost my spiritual home.
Still, I left owing nothing.
Even trade, education is expensive, I had learned a lot, I had found out the rest myself, and I would be forgetting little.
Viper 5/1/2004
“I’m
a Hell hound baby Said I aint house trained I’m a dirty dog
And
I’m unchained I’ll be your gunsmoke lover Your dangerous
stranger
_________________________________
Lali Responds Written on the 4/1/2004, it was received the evening of the 5th.
Hello Vern, I am glad you have had the opportunity to get it off your chest! We are free to interpret events in our own way. However, you seem to have gotten a few points muddled. 1. The price of 2 new keys costs exactly 13.75 Euros and the keychain costs 50 cents. If you had lost them (like you said you had) 15 Euros is the right price. 2. The bottles of booze that you leave behind is your own choice...we have never asked you to leave them behind...if you must know what happens, I give it to the regulars for free...as for your rum, well, I was on holiday then, but I assume it was enjoyed the same as the others...by the regulars. They say "Thanks". 3. I showed your website to Mila and she was a bit stunned. She didn't think you two had a problem and that it was just between us two...but slagging off the hotel does involve her as it is her hotel. Rather than slandering the hotel on your site, you should have approached her with your problems with the "management". 4. You would like to think that all this started back in May 2002, when you got Cathy into trouble with Mila, but to be honest, it really started when you came in wearing a T-shirt with me on the front and calling me your Viper Babe. I was extremely embarrassed and slightly concerned. This was further amplified by the fact that you started a website where there were numerous photos of me (some of which I wasn't even aware of being taken). I laughed off the t-shirt the first couple of times but after a while it just was not on. I asked you politely to please not wear the t-shirt any more...you responded by going upstairs to put it on...is that how you treat friends...disregarding their respect???? Me thinks not! 5. The curtain rail did only cost 14.75 Euro, but as it had to be bought, assembled and mounted it was only fair to charge you more than the cost price of the rail. I didn't show you the receipt because I didn't have it on me at the time this came to fruition. 6. As to me insinuating that you are shooting up junk, you are highly misguided. If you recall the night, it was Merl who saw the mosquito bites and joked about the one in the nook of your inner elbow...I did laugh, but really to release the stress...if you recall, it will be the night I ranted at you for half an hour? 7. The night that you locked yourself out is really blown out of all realistic proportions. You may have been knocking "politely" at the door just after 3, but by then, as you know, I was in the back restocking crates of bottles etc. It was only when I came to the front that I was told that you were out there. I yelled "we are closed" and everyone started laughing so I didn't hear your reply. But just then Billy came down the stairs from the WC and started yelling too (of which I have trained myself to become deaf to) so he came up to the bar to say that you had lost your keys. At which point I immediately walked to the door to let you in. In my mind I hadn't done anything wrong, so when you started yelling at me through the door I did say to look harder, but I let you in seconds later. How were we to know that you were in such a bad state...surely as an adult it is your prerogative to seek medical attention when or if you need it. I am sorry that it has come to this, but you seem to have all the opportunity to out yourself. Its easy making someone look bad, but I thought you would have used your website for something more positive. The way you invade peoples privacy is sometimes strange and outlandish. It is my duty to protect the privacy of your fellow guests. It seems that we have both experienced and said/written some nasty stuff. I doubt that I will see you here again. I would like to return your bongs to you as I know that they have sentimental value to you. Is there anyone or anywhere where they can be dropped off or would you like them to be mailed back to you? Take care and all the best in your life, Lali. ________________________ A very imaginative communication correct in only one respect, "I doubt that I will see you here again." The photograph published shows the position of the bite mark clearly upon my left bicep & not the ‘inner elbow’. She'd told me herself she had sold the rum in shots.
While it is true I had a T-shirt of Lali, (sent to Mila on my return) it got worn very seldom, only in Amsterdam, & usually like the occasion mentioned above was as a direct request of one of the regulars wanting to see it. Lali’s real name in Indian means angel. I had been calling Lali my angel as a result since I’d met her. The T-shirt had
'This
Viper’s Angel' above a picture taken in good & high spirits during the 1998 Cannabis Cup. It was a play on words. I had it made as a joke, but also as a compliment. As Manageress Lali was the hero of the Hotel, a little like Basil was to Fawlty Towers. As a hard worker I though she deserved some recognition. Quote the raven, "Nevermore !"
_______________________________ _____________
All images & text ©Viperslair.co.uk All rights reserved. Any un-authorized publication of texts, parts of texts, or images, will result in legal action. Publishing permission can be obtained from the Viperslair.co.uk by written request only.
First Published 5/1/2004 by Viperslair.co.uk
Re-published with edits 2/2/2004 Re-published 26/9/2004 Re-published 1/1/2006 Re-formatted
and edited for Disc 12/10/2006 |
