270 The Diary of a Drug Fiend
Lou, in a state of almost insane excitement, was
calling up Barley Grange on long distance. The house-
keeper was to send up something to wear that morning.
While she shouted the order, I suddenly recollected
that Lamus and Lala were coming in after lunch;
the clothes couldn’t possibly reach us till after three
o'clock. The best thing to do was to have some dressing-
gowns sent up from Piccadilly.
They sent people round with a selection at once, and
what with that and sending out for some toilet things,
and having in the hairdresser, we made ourselves fairly
presentable by half-past one.
That morning gave me the impression of a vaudeville
turn or a farce. We had to dodge about from one
room to another according as male or female angels
ministered unto us.
The excitement kept our minds off heroin very
successfully ; but it obtruded itself constantly on our
notice none the less by insistent physical attacks.
Of course, we warded them off at once by taking suitable
doses. I cannot say that there was any real diminution.
For one thing, taking the stuff by the nose, you can’t
tell exactly how much you are getting, and a good deal
of what you take is wasted.
But the whole atmosphere had changed. We had
been taking it till now in a steady, regular manner. It
had become a continuous performance. But this
morning each patch of craving and each dose were
definite incidents. The homogeneity of the vice had
been broken up into sections. The dull monotony of
the drug had developed dramatic qualities. We were
reminded of our early experiences with it. We had,
to a certain extent, recovered what addicts call “ drug
virginity.” That alone was sufficient to fill us with a
keen sense of exhilaration. We had regained the
possibility of hope.
On the other hand, we were brought very sharply
up against ourselves by the efforts of the hairdresser
and the haberdasher. The smart new dressing-gowns