Cannabis tales
5 min

Tales From The Cannabis Club 1: A Meeting With Marguerite

5 min
Legislation News

Relax, get comfortable, and blaze a spliff of your favourite weed; won't you stay a while for some tales from the cannabis club. Top Shelf Grower brings you strange stoner stories from a Spanish cannabis club.


Somewhere in the south of Spain nestled between the snow-capped peaks of the Sierra Nevada Mountains and the Tabernas Desert is the best little cannabis club in Spain.

Just a five-minute stroll from my own mountain lair, I’ve become a member - something of a regular - and really gotten to know the place, the menu and the people too.

Top Shelf Grower is definitely not a “joiner”, and with the exception of Basketball, I thoroughly despise teamwork and all types of clubs and societies in general. Following the pack witlessly can all too easily turn to goose-stepping Nazi parading.

However, when it comes to recreational cannabis use, I’m all for a group smoke session. Good bud and unusual conversation is my kind of entertainment.

Of course, I’m a city boy from Dublin familiar with fine coffee shops; in fact, the Starbucks beside the Central Bank HQ in the city centre was essentially my cosy second office once upon a time.

In contrast, Spanish cannabis club decor down south is minimalist and not designed with ergonomics in mind. Definitely closer to the coffee shops of Amsterdam than the Colorado marijuana dispensaries.


Through The Keyhole Of A Spanish Cannabis Club

The exterior of the club is secured by high perimeter walls and metal security door. Nothing from the outside would indicate that a magic smoke shack was just beyond the walls, but never judge a book by its cover - nor a cannabis club either.

Unfortunately, rushing flood waters toppled most of the wall recently, but the door and frame survived. Moreover, someone’s nicked the handle and if you haven’t the patience to wrestle with a coat hanger door handle you best skip over the debris of the wall to gain entry at the minute.

The interior is mostly wooden: floors, stools, benches even the bar, a thoroughly solid establishment. My suggested custom fabrication of flame retardant recliner chairs made from the same kind of fire resistant material as formula one car seats has been dismissed as extravagant lunacy for now.

So the Moe’s Tavern ambience will probably prevail and to be honest, it works. What the place lacks in comfy leather couches it more than makes up for with genuine character.

Kilner jars of several different strains adorn the walls behind the bar, usually at least 8 different types of weed and a couple of grades of hash all ranging in price from €4-7 max.

On the ceiling and around the main bar an array of colourful LED’s create a chill atmosphere and AC/DC tunes on request (err, at my insistence), make the club a pretty great hash bar to get stoned in.

Plus, this dank tavern is well equipped with all kinds of pipes, vaporizers and dabbing rigs freely available for use by members, often even with a complimentary hit of the latest fire concentrate on the house.

As a writer, I’m used to flying solo and mostly live in my own world but every now and then I like to venture out and socialise some place other than the gym.

Drinkers have it made with a choice of venues; while stoners are too often confined to staying home or having a session at a friend’s place.

A great cannabis club for a local makes all the difference, and weed smokers really do have the most interesting conversations. Over Christmas, I had plenty of time to get acquainted with my local cannabis club.

I’ve compiled some of the craziest, funniest and mostly true stories into the following tales from the cannabis club.


Biscuit Dynasties & Plenty Of Spliffs

Over the course of many afternoon joints of some tasty Flo by Dutch Passion, I had a fascinating conversation with Marguerite. If I remember correctly, it was Tuesday of Christmas week round about 4.20pm when I scrambled into the club with the intention of just smoking the pre-rolled joint of Chanel that I brought with me.

My mission was simple: procure a fat Christmas stash and promptly return to my apartment to work on some stories and shoot some smoke report videos for my YouTube channel. While Freddy the budtender was weighing out my stash and dutifully bagging it up for me I had a seat and sparked up my pre-rolled spliff.

I glanced to my left and noticed an older lady putting the finishing touches to a fat spliff of Chanel herself. We got to chatting, and I had just bought 10 grams of Flo for just €40, so I decided to stick around to sample a joint of Flo and enjoy a coffee with her.

Marguerite is from the Netherlands and a relatively new member, but having lived in Amsterdam previously she is a veteran of the Dutch coffee shop scene and can really handle her dope. It was pretty chilly outside, and the Flo was both tasty and potent.

Once Freddy had eventually got a roaring fire going and closed all the doors and windows, the bar area was transformed into a toasty dank hot-box that was virtually impossible to leave. The Doors “Light my Fire” came on, and it was settled, I was down for the day.

I could sense a story bubbling up as I chatted more with Marguerite and when she revealed she was a genuine living relative of the family of every Dutch stoner's favourite biscuits “Verkade”, I knew I had to write.

Usually, I carry a note pad and a biro everywhere but I originally intended to return to my apartment hours ago and was now very high, so I found myself ill-equipped to take notes as we conversed.


A Tale Of The Power Of Medical Cannabis

Luckily Freddy was on hand to let me borrow a biro and a few sheets of note paper, by this stage he was leaning over the bar and hanging on Marguerite’s every word just like me.

I frantically scribbled as she went on to tell us the story of how her father got involved in medical cannabis research back in the day, sometime around 1975/6.

As best as I can decipher my scrawl, Marguerite’s father started out as a conventional, if talented, western medical professional during the 1950’s. He worked mostly internationally as a surgeon up to the early 1970’s.

Cut to the mid-1970’s sometime around 1975/6, her father is a diagnostic specialist and working with rehab patients. Odds are if you were one of her father’s patients, most other doctors had already written you off as a lost cause, because the bulk of his patients were cancer & MS sufferers that were non-responsive to conventional drug treatments.

His absolute confidence in western medicine was shaken, and he began searching for alternative medicines. Eastern medicine practices were at first a research project and eventually evolved into serious study, and ultimately he incorporated practices such as acupuncture into his course of treatments for patients.

The Eureka moment came sometime during this period. On a home consultation with an MS patient that had seemingly been avoiding him for the previous 2-3 weeks, he had his mind blown by the power of cannabis without even smoking any.

This particular MS patient was becoming a cause of great concern for Marguerite’s father as he had only been in contact with her over the phone. He was becoming worried her condition had deteriorated and she was perhaps trying to conceal it from him.

He decided on making a home visit before things got any worse.
On the morning of the fateful visit, the MS patient - a woman in her early thirties but with the health of a woman in her eighties - answered the door unaided and welcomed the doctor in for a cup of coffee.

Her father was further stunned in the kitchen as the woman lifted the coffee pot without a single hand tremor and poured him a cup effortlessly. The woman seemed reinvigorated, and he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing.

He had feared the worst and was now mystified by the patient’s sudden improvement. She too feared the attention of an establishment authority figure, don’t forget it was the 70’s and the coffee shops were just small Hippy dens, very few medical professionals were even contemplating medical cannabis.

The woman confessed that the reason she had been avoiding seeing any doctor ever since she started smoking marijuana. She had been recently introduced to it by friends that smoked recreationally and soon discovered smoking a few joints kept her hands from shaking so much, eased her aches and pains and generally made life a lot more tolerable.

This encounter was a poignant moment in Marguerite’s father’s life and prompted him to study medical cannabis treatments, the details of which I will do my best to compile in future - in the next tales from the cannabis club. Suffice to say, there is research to be done! Naturally, tales from the cannabis club are unverified, and no claims can be absolutely confirmed.

Names have been changed to protect identities. But only just enough so club regulars can probably guess who the resident mad Irish writer is talking about. All stories originated and written under the influence. More tales from the cannabis club coming soon.


  Top-Shelf Grower  

Written by: Top-Shelf Grower
Veteran cannabis cultivator originally from Dublin, Ireland and currently on the loose in southern Spain. 100% committed to Top-Shelf reporting until captured or killed.

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