Bridget Jones High, Mushrooms, Accident, Drugs

Midult Highs

Listen we’ve got to get our kicks somehow. Now that having a big night means being hospitalised. Remember when a Lucozade and a bacon sandwich was all you needed to clear the cobwebs? Now it’s a vitamin drip and a darkened room for two days, and even then, it is touch a go. But the mind has tricks up its sleeve – so what if we can’t drink ten shots, dance all night, have sex with a bad man and still hit a 9am meeting? We have new ways to get high. Very high….ways like…

Organisational highs

Maybe this harks back to school, when a new exercise book or Tippex used to cut the mustard. But imagine rooting out information on three different pension schemes from the drawer of death, scanning the documents using a phone – mind blown – and sending them to a new pension provider all in one neat pension package. High for days.

Not drinking caffeine high

Counter intuitive we know. And also annoying. So we’re sorry. But we’ve met several people recently who have given up coffee and are absolutely fine. More than fine. They are positively brimming with verve. As if replacing the dark coffee liquid stuff with something purer had actually had some benefits or something stupid like that. Obviously we’re not doing this. Or believing this. But we are nothing if not helpful so we are passing it on.

Cold water high

There’s a reason women are jumping into freezing water.

Comeback high

The mic drop. The moment when the planets align, your ancestors gather in your spiritual corner, the brain fires up exactly as it should and the perfect response comes out of your mouth. Not five minutes later when you are in the loo, crying angry tears at your failure to launch. Not five hours later when you are in the shower replaying the conversation for the 10th time. Not 10 years later when you are walking in the park going through the conversation again instead of listening to your motivational podcast. Instead you are all “Hold on I didn’t ask for a glass of your opinion”. Or ‘actually Geoff, if you refer to my email of 12th April, you will see that I did note this as a likely outcome. How do you plan to resolve this?’ And it feels good. So good. Sex/gambling/drugs are great but….have you ever said the perfect thing at the perfect time….oof…

Getting into bed high

You know that feeling when you are sofa-tired, but still have a mountain to climb. You have to take off your sofa pyjamas and put on your bed pyjamas. You have to do your quick and cheap 25-step skincare routine.You have to floss, brush your teeth, meditate, pray to the gods, adjust the temperature, the lighting, the ambience. You have to put on the cracked heel balm and find a pair of socks that you haven’t decimated with your gnarled toe nails. Oh and you have to quickly run downstairs to put the dishwasher on and check you haven’t left the hob on… then and only then can you slip into bed. And that moment. That moment you tuck yourself under the duvet. That’s the moment. The trouble is – wonderful though the getting into bed high may be – it keeps you awake. You are so high that you have to read the entire internet before falling asleep.

TV high

When you have watched so much TV you are swivel-eyed and deranged. Just one more won’t hurt will it? Just one little episode…it will be fine…you in no way look mad with the crisp crumbs and the imprint of the slogan cushion on your face. Not at all.

New skincare high

Is this the product that is finally going to reverse the process? And for a blissful second, it is. The pop of the jar and the way it looks on the shelf. It’s enough to make you contemplate becoming a skinfluencer. You may even practice in the mirror – should you get a ring light? You know, one of those halo things that make you look like a sort of Kardashian-lite. Then there’s a weird bit when you decide what to do with the metal foil – do you lick it, chuck it away or scrape off of what’s on the top. Incidentally does anyone else get weirdly resentful of nearly finished pots and tubes of cream? Like hurry up and die already. And also…how can you leave me?

Cookbook high

The smell of it. The possibility. The thickness of the pages. The texture of the cover. All the potential. The deliciousness. It’s narcotic. And then come all the lows. The mess. The guilt over expensive ingredients you will only use once like the massive jar of preserved lemons and the precious pots of obscure spices. The mess. The burnings. The realisation that all your pans are horrible and encrusted. The oven needs cleaning – that’s definitely going to happen. Deliveroo is less traumatic. So you wipe the cookbook and put it away. Except there is nowhere to put it so it goes on the sticky pile of other cookbooks that teeter threateningly at you while you who’ve another ready-made cottage pie in the filthy fucking oven.

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