So I cut the cat's throat, or rather paid a vet the sum of several trips to Mokum to do it, and she seems fine now, happier than when taking pills, which probably knocked her out a bit, apart from fighting me about it. I've booked some time off work at the end of June, but what about using the bank holiday for a cheeky overnighter? She and her sister won't even notice, as I'm taking my day bag instead of the suitcase...
I think I'm getting too old for the coach, though. Two pints of Old Rosie, of all things, at the pub in Victoria, and two pints of Bud on the boat just to get some sleep, where a reflective pipe or two would put me in so much better a mood, and I wouldn't have to worry about feeling sick or hung over. But then if I had a selection of nice things to smoke and could smoke them openly, I wouldn't be travelling, would I?
At least the boat is semi-civilised:
Arriving at Amstel some time after eight, I don't have to start off in Central, as I generally do when dumped there a couple of hours earlier. So it's straight onto the Metro, down to Centraal Station and over to Utopia for breakfast. A cup of their excellent cappuccino, a gram of OG #18 and one of Nepal cream; the first customer, I sit at the window and watch a shocked American couple nearly enter ('But – it said coffee shop!') and a madman take a handful of chips from an abandoned McD bag. Youngsters from the hostel filtered through. Time to move on; two days doesn't give you much time to fritter away.
I want a copy of the museum map from the Leidseplein ticket shop, as it's pretty good and I couldn't find my copy before I left. I'm there before they open at 10, which makes me feel stoner-efficient. Then it's time for the next smoke; I go towards Vijzelstraat, pass up Noon for Mellow Yellow, the first shop I found so unexpectedly in late 2011. But it's no longer the place of refuge and cheap white widow that it was then; it has a slick new menu with Dr Grinspoon and such things, and is open all hours. I pass it up, and it won't be the first.
Rusland is next. They're always changing it, but this is pretty drastic – the whole lower level's inaccessible. No cat in sight, though she's around. Two grams of Afghan to go, and do I detect a hint of soapbar? My least memorable purchase of the trip.
Next up: Green Place for Jack Herer and coffee, the first time I've ever smoked there. As always, I have to restrict the green; don't get carried away, because all those lovely tastes are wretched travel companions. So not more than 3g is the goal for the trip (it was 4 in the end).
Anyday's next, for a g of Nepal to go.
Then Siberië around noon for a g of Nepal, their excellent coffee and the computer; nobody else in at that time. Read Winnie's post about open day for buildings, and decided to make my way to my hotel via a couple of them. So the first five coffeeshops have been visited, and one rejected, and it's on into the afternoon of the first of only a brace of days.
