Money Droppings in Bath

We woke up on Friday around 3:pm in our lush, cosy bedroom in our beautiful house in North Devon and had breakfast in bed. We then got cleaned up and dressed and went to the stationary store in our hot tamale of a 1988 Toyota MR2. We bought a box of 500 palm-sized cards & envelopes and chatted with the clerk about the weather. We asked him if he could remember the last time he saw a bird flying around in the store and he said "No".

We let the matter drop lest he intuit our state of cannabis inspired thoughts.

We went home, happy we had found the envelopes we wanted.

10 May 1975, Milwaukee, Jeff Beck in concert, that's what we listened to as we wrote in each card: This is yours! Do Not give it to the police. Do Not ask anyone if it is theirs. IT IS YOURS! Love, your Source of Well-Being.

On each envelope we wrote: Hey You! Open me NOW!

We then inserted three folded £20 notes into each card and placed each card into an envelope.

We did not lick the envelopes to seal them, we used a postal sponge.

All in all, aside from a few distractions, the project took us about nine hours to complete.

On Saturday we loaded the pockets of our winter coats with about 200 envelopes between us and took a leisurely drive to Bath. We stopped four times along the way: Twice at Burger King and twice at roadside stands selling preserves & chestnuts.

I went into the loo at both Burger Kings and found both empty. I placed an envelope behind each toilet, one on the paper roll dispenser, and one on the floor where someone's right foot would stand (or left foot if said someone is seated). I then tossed a handful of envelopes on top of the heap of the overflowing rubbish bin. I used my foot to push the heap down a bit.

My wife put a small stack of envelopes on each sink in the women's loo.

We both snuck a few into the condiments trays at the counters, and I tossed a few into the rubbish bins.

People go through rubbish bins & bags---maybe not the person who ties them up and tosses them into the dumpster, but eventuallysomeone does. Don't ask me how I know. You would disapprove.

At the roadside stands, I secretly placed envelopes amongst the jars of preserves and bags of nuts while my wife shopped.

In Bath we placed envelopes in letter boxes, on empty bus stop benches, in rubbish bins, phone boxes, and one in each trolley of two lanes of trolleys outside of Waitrose.

And that was it!

All the envelopes we had brought with us had been dispersed.

We hugged outside of Waitrose and thanked our Source of Well-Being for answering our desires to be able to blow people's minds and make them feel lucky by giving them the opportunity to find money.

Here in the UK they do not print £100 notes, and many stores---especially little ones---won't take £50 notes, otherwise I'd put a £100 note or two £50 notes in each one.

Meanwhile, the kerching kerching just keeps flowing in.

And soon, very soon, a super literary agent and various well-negotiated publishing deals.

"It's so much easier when you understand."

Ain't nothing but a party y'all!

For the last three nights we have been driving through the centres of Rochester, Strood, and Chatham throwing £20 notes out the windows of our car.

No one has seemed to notice us in the act and we haven't seen anyone go after the floating notes. Still, just the thought that people are going to find them and feel lucky, that's a priceless feeling---both ways.

Tomorrow we intend to go to the library and sneak £20 notes into about 50 different books---a mix of fiction and non-fiction.

Finders keepers!

I enjoy this much more than giving to a charity.

Have you ever found money? 5? 10? 20? More?
It feels really good. You light up inside. It feels like a gift from the universe.
Well, I'm giving it, so what does that make me? Yep, I AM the mutherfucken I AM. Me! I'm the universe.

Don't get nervous.

If any friends or family are reading this and wondering why I ain't offering them any of this free money, remember: All of you, before we incarnated, asked me to ignore your cries for help. Your Catherine Wheel of up & down agonies & drama & narcissistic stares into the abyss of familiar negative thoughts must spin unhindered. Thy will be done.

We're the Funkadelic; we're gonna groove for you.

By the way: My Youtube page works fine now. Youtube acknowledged responsibility for the java & flash error. Still, I am going to keep the P-Funk available on the blog under this very one you are reading. [Edit: Then again, I might not...]

West Somerset June 2007

Top photo: Field of poppies we walked by in Porlock.
Next: The 17th century wall of our cottage.
Next: One of the numerous tree tunnels we drove through.
Next: From our front living room window.
Next: From our bathroom window.
Bottom photo: From the cliff at Lynton.

West Somerset was beautiful and peaceful.


We stayed in a 17th century barn conversion cottage near Wheddon Cross in the Exmoor National Park.
We went to Dunster but couldn't go into the castle with Benny. No big deal. We had a lovely lunch in the back garden of a nice cafe. I had eggs, ham, and chips, and Mrs Newport had a cream tea. We also bought 5 original oil paintings from an artist who paints in the same shop he sells his work at. It's on the High street. David Deakins. Only uses a palette knife and a roller. Creates these lovely unique impressions. We're quite proud of them. We shook his hand and told him flat out that he painted beautiful paintings.

We had a fun time at Blue Anchor beach. Benny really enjoyed running in the soft yet firm sand. We enjoyed looking at where a red land mass has collided with a grey/blue mass. We touched these humongous boulders of pink quartz (white and black, too).

We went to gorgeous Lynmouth and took the steam lift up to Lynton. I bought some "American style" chocolate chip cookies. The Mrs bought some bread. At the lift station to go back down to Lynmouth, we had milkshakes. Mine was cinnamon and...eh. Too thin. The British idea of milkshakes is some sort of throwback to WW2 rationing. They don't use ice cream. Just flavoured milk. It's kind of dumb and useless.

We also went to Porlock and drove through loads of places numerous times. We went to Minehead and found it a bit rough. Wouldn't want to live there but could bear shopping at the big Tesco. We had to go back to Minehead to take Benny to the vet. He had ticks. I tried to remove one but left its head in. My wife did the same thing to another one. We then proceeded to inflict grievous bodily harm to Benny's arm and genital region by trying to dig out the heads, first with a pair of tweezers, and then a piece of one of my disposable razor blades. Poor pooch had two ugly lesion-ulcer-looking things on him---and still 2 tick heads imbedded within his skin. Mrs Newport feared an infection, thus the visit to the vet.

The vet was nice. He said there shouldn't be any problems and gave Benny an injection for good measure. He said there are ticks about because the farmers don't burn their fields anymore. This used to kill off the ticks, and if didn't, the winter did. Nowadays the winters are mild and the ticks are surviving.