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We used to always go down and buy some in Camden for fireworks night. Hubbie and I would wander down to Battersea with a large thermos of warm mulled wine and a large bag of mushrooms. Such a great place to do them in. Although we usually ended up at the Funky Monkey in the end. Last time I did that, I ended up having a conversation with someone's letter box asking it if knew the way home.


Ah, the days before children.

I had a few bad trips on the old magic mushies, but the good bits stay with you forever. When I used to live in Herne Hill I spent weeks looking in Brockwell Park with no joy, until one day I stumbled upon a huge patch on the hill at the back of the cafe. Wahey!


A few days later I went out to someone's birthday party then came home pissed, swigged down a bunch with a can of beer and went to bed. At three in the morning I awoke bolt upright, put on my running stuff and jogged round the south circular in the rain for about two hours as well as scuttling around Brockwell Park in the dark feeling like the guy in American Werewolf only with more clothes on...Strangely enough, haven't done anything like that for a while. Perhaps the time is soon.


The other week I found a shaggy ink cap in someone's garden. I picked it rushed home and cooked it in butter with s & p. I was delightfully mushroomy with a lovely silky texture. Scrummilicious.

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