The gardens of the Levant

Afterwards I walked along the prom for a couple of miles, delighting in the flat grey sea and horizon. "Free Drugs and Alcohol," a poster said. And in much smaller letters underneath, "Advice. Morecambe Library, Tuesdays 7pm."

My destination was the Smugglers Den, the oldest pub in Morecambe, built in the 1640s. A noticeboard outside irresistibly advertised "Hore Racing". I went in looking for the hores but I didn't want to suggest anything inappropriate to the woman in the fleecy tracksuit.

"

Whilst I kept one eye open for any sudden outbreak of erotic sprinting, I had a pint of Mild and chatted pleasantly and inconsequentially to the locals. £3 for something barely over 3% is steep for Morecambe though, and I only had the one.

Following day Kitty came over and we ended up with a little gang of us in the garden at the Sun Hotel. In the evening, Kev and Neil bought me my tea, again in the Sun. Neil's friend from Uni was there, one of the large constituency of men for whom it is perfectly natural to ask no questions whatsoever of anyone, but quite happy to be enquired about for an indefinite period of time.

Yesterday a barbeque at Erica's. Little bit of drunken attraction developing with her friend Davina, a former pub landlady who had the tenancy withdrawn from her after she was convicted of a minor drugs offence concerning a herbal remedy commonly obtained from the gardens of the Levant. "Is Davina single?" I asked Erica as she was away for a minute. "Yes," came the astonishing reply.

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A year since she last contacted me, Bridget emails out of the blue, asking me if she knew anyone who could sort her out. "I know it's very cheeky, after you dumped me and all..." I immediately emailed back, as I did not want that to be registered as the official chronicle of what happened.

Did I dump you? That's not how I remember it. First you said you didn't fancy me (that's alright you can't help that) then, as friends, you could never bloody turn up for our socialising, always cancelling after I'd arranged a babysitter. Anyway, never mind, I was surprised and pleased to see you in my inbox and glad you've kept my virtual address.

There's one person who might be able to help. [...] Give me a little time and I'll suggest it.

Yes, you are a very cheeky fucker and I like you for it x

We exchanged a couple of bewildering emails, before the penny dropped. She was after a herbal remedy commonly obtained from the gardens of the Levant. I thought she was after someone to give her a rodding. It would have made for an amusing incident had my friend turned up on her doorstep.