Beautifully told, Annie. Mushrooms were my friend's favourite as a young man. There was something magical about the experience of going out and picking them, he used to say. Heading off to that spot in the woods his friend's friend had told him about, just after the first rains of autumn. A campervan, a kettle, a couple of mates.

Wandering aimlessly, bent double, paper bag in hand. Nothing.

Then all of a sudden one would appear. Checked and double checked. Yup, that little darkened telltale nipple, the St Basil's Cathedral dome - this is the one!

And all of a sudden, like the stars appearing after Venus has ushered in the night, they would be everywhere, places where you'd swear you had just looked and there was nothing there.

That whole build-up made it all feel so natural and holistic, at one with Mother Earth, and by extension, the Cosmos.

That certainly helped make it feel a much more mellow vibe that LSD, so it's hard to say how one could distinguish between the physiological effects of the two, as they simply shoot out tendrils of their mycelium within the substrate that our own mind has already laid for them, I think.

I mean, my friend thinks.