In September, I witnessed the undeniable psychedelic pleasures of watching Tame Impala play to thousands of lightly toasted millennials in Victoria Park. It was a fitting farewell to the first summer in three you could do this sort of thing, oddly moving in its own abstract way. Lasers dusted the night sky. Beats pulsed against the trees. Women in their boyfriends’ Aries bucket hats swayed on shoulders. Love was in the air, as was that another inescapable element of our city — the smell of weed.
This week there have been whispers that the Government’s new Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, would like to upgrade cannabis to a Class-A drug. Amid stiff competition, Braverman is becoming the most emblematically loveless of a Cabinet demarked during its catastrophic first month by its absence of compassion. Her views are light years behind what is happening on the ground, archaic enough to make Jacob Rees-Mogg look like Rihanna.
