Apart from getting a really unnecessary suntan, I picked up a few things at last Sunday's People's National Party conference.

I got myself a good education in weed! Now let me say from the beginning that I did not smoke any. Cross my heart! But I was more than a little surprised that while others were bubbling to music, hustling to get into the Arena, or refreshing themselves at one of the various food stalls, there were men selling the good old 'high grade'. All this with the police nearby, of course - don't know why we don't just legalise the thing.

Anyway, the lesson began when one man told me he was selling St Ann high grade. Naturally I wondered what was the difference between St Ann weed and for argument's sake, St Andrew weed.

"Yuh see St Ann high grade, we have di right soil fi weed enuh. If yuh check it out," he said to me confidently. An elderly gentleman, who was drinking a Pepsi in a not-just-Pepsi-in-the-bottle kind of way, nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Either he truly believed it, or he was hoping to score a few free sticks for himself. Unfazed, the marijuana merchant went on to give me further 'information'.

"So we have di right climate fi di weed man. People say St Bess a di Breadbasket but a St Ann a di Garden Parish, you see it," the hemp hustler opined. "St Bess weed good, but St Ann a di strongest!" The authority in his voice, plus the fact the only time the word 'smoked' appears in my life is in regards to ham, I did not argue with him. The aforementioned old man promptly bought a $50 stick of the good stuff.

Another lesson I got, or at least, a confirmation more than anything else, was that people don't just love Sista P, they will go to extremes to be near her. Adore is a good verb, but, somehow, even that falls short. Let me explain.

Before the comrade leader's arrival, some conference attendees were having issues with the four-legged members of the 'mounted troop'. That was compounded whenever the horses, as all living creatures must do at some point, had to 'use the bathroom'. Horse droppings had persons cursing and stepping very carefully around sections outside the National Arena.

But the minute the SUV carrying the beloved prime minister rolled up, those persons were literally stepping in dung to catch a better glimpse of her. All of a sudden the slippers, Clarks and sneakers didn't matter. It was all about 'Mama P'. I found it quite hilarious. As my aunt would say, hope when God come dem run so! I suspect they will be running; in the other direction, because dem nuh ready! Later.

Tell me who has the best weed at daviot.kelly@gleanerjm.com.