The season is here and at Ascot last week, rather than worrying about what hat to wear, the real pros were working out what drug to take. After a series of cubicle swabs, newspaper reports left no doubt as to racegoers’ consumption at ‘As-ket’: the coke consumed in the car parks alone probably financed the construction of at least three Medellin villas. It also explains the success of that ubiquitous pale blue Oliver Brown waistcoat – lined with two perfectly-sized little pockets.
Dealers’ menus, sent by WhatsApp and laden with emojis, reveal the astonishing array of exotic substances on offer to punters. We no longer live in an era of poorly cling-filmed coke (which turned out to be mainly speed) and hash pellets that look like rabbit poo. The Albanians have cornered and refined the market. What’s more, they respond well to a plummy accent – the sure sign of a return client. In grams cut per card, Coutts must rank near the top.
Of course, there are certain types who insist that their substance of choice is perfect for every occasion, whether that be the cokeheads whose nostrils twitch when asked at Tesco if they’d ‘like a bag’, the stoner who says ‘they’re not addicted’ or even those who insist that a half-hour train journey requires a warm rattly can of John Smith’s.
Yet for most normal people, a one-size-fits-all approach makes them vulnerable to turns of misadventure. To invoke Milton, ‘The mind is its own place, and in it self/Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n’. While I by no means encourage drug-taking, if you really must, it is worth choosing wisely to enhance your summer.
Taking ketamine at Ascot is foolish, for instance, even if it provides some sense of solidarity with the horses. You’re already sweltering in your morning dress, flitting between various social scenarios – do you watch the races, hang out with friends, or escape the sun in a tent where you can exhaust a friend’s grandfather’s supply of Moët? By the time you’ve decided, the day is over. Better to take the day at a steady pace, a bump of coke if necessary, tempered by high volumes of Pimm’s to stay hydrated. In a K-hole, you’d miss out on all the fun. The real drug of choice at Ascot, though, is Ozempic. Everyone is on it.
Over at the cricket, a G&T is the order of the day. You’re in your rather uncomfortable seat for a while, so you don’t want anything that will get your feet itching. A CBD gummy could do the trick – but steer clear of the psychoactive compound THC. Lord knows you don’t need it. Instead, let the dulcet tones of Jonathan Agnew regaling you on an earpiece start to increase your appreciation of pigeons and cake. The fogeys won’t mind so long as you don’t get too noisy. CBD is also helpful at Henley, particularly if you find yourself speaking to someone wearing five enamel badges and a blazer made by a tailor that went bust over 50 years ago.
Taking ketamine at Ascot is foolish, for instance, even if it provides some sense of solidarity with the horses
Wimbledon requires stimulants. A little Ritalin or modafinil will have you watching the ball like a barn owl with a tic, while your appetite will be so minimal that strawberries and cream are out of the question. A glass of rosé to sort out the dry mouth is a necessary pairing.
Though a fallow year, it is worth mentioning Glastonbury, the broadest and happiest of churches. The whole festival is orchestrated in such a way that every so often you second guess yourself – is that a group of people dressed as sheep, Dua Lipa having a pint – or did I drop a pill? You’ll always come across a gurning scouser stumbling along in their athleticwear at 5 a.m. and a group of lanyarded crusties passing a joint around a campfire. Somehow, everyone gets along perfectly, and for five days the Island of the Lotus-Eaters becomes real. You can even go the whole festival completely sober, and you won’t be any worse off for it, though it’s very much worth shelling out for some coffee and electrolytes.
Has there ever been a more perfectly designed set-up for a microdose of psychedelics than the manicured pastures of Glyndebourne? Drug takers love a pithy phrase to capture the combinations they take (a ‘candy flip’ for acid and MDMA, ‘kitty flip’ for MDMA and ketamine). How about a champignon/champagne? You do of course run the risk of a bad trip if you happen to see Don Giovanni getting dragged to hell, and mind you don’t break your ankle falling into the ha-ha.
A relatively new addition to the season is Notting Hill Carnival, where young debs are courted, and duels by sword – machetes bought off Temu – remain the norm. The ever-present whiff of skunk is combined with Magnum tonic wine (not yet stocked by Berry Bros), which is one of the few drinks in my local Sainsbury’s to have a security tag attached for a single serving. Another truth here is that the more lurid your drink, the better, and the more countries that have banned the colouring used, the tastier it will be.
Much the same goes for Pride, where bright colours and bright drinks are on the menu. Poppers are a perennial favourite but don’t mix them up with your tonic wine – the bottles are unnervingly similar for an addled mind.
The connoisseur’s choice for the summer season is 2C-B, a drug both mildly hallucinogenic and mildly stimulating. It requires no commitment for the long-haul, has minimal comedown as opposed to MDMA, and was the favourite of Alexander ‘Sasha’ Shulgin, the biochemist known as the ‘godfather of ecstasy’. In recent years it has become the go-to of those in the know, and to my mind, could be the most versatile drug of the summer.
The Proms have very generously provided beanbags at the back, which one imagines is for those whose ket consumption has gone a bit far. It all just shows how much the season is adapting to this brave new world. So this summer, remember: champagne and coke aren’t the answer to everything.
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