Now most of us have some cross or other
to bear during our lives, mine is quite simple, I think
I got Sweden mad at me - vicious lot those Swedes and now
they seem to take pleasure in being nasty - there again
it may just be their normal manner, let's face it Sweden
isn't exactly Comedy Central.
It all started when, in my book, I related an event that
had happened years before when I was still in the Royal
Navy. A new addition to the team turned out to be a look
alike for a woman in a Swedish pop group, although she,
herself, was Norwegian. A couple of my troops were impressed,
I wasn't - this is how it reads in the book.
I still couldn't really see what all the fuss was about.
"They're quite a cheery bunch," said Taff "Very
colourful".
This I doubted, if they were from Sweden then colour wouldn't
enter the picture. A few years earlier, around 1968, when
still with the Royal Navy I had taken leave with three brother
officers in the area. After three months inside the Arctic
Circle in a frigate we were in the mood to party. Having
heard wonderful things about Scandinavia, well Scandinavian
women, we decided to do the 'grand tour'.
Our pockets were bulging with folding money all of which
we intended to waste on booze and women, if that can be
called a waste.
Denmark and Norway had been just OK. The people were a bit
dour and there seemed to be a shortage of available females
but we got by.
Then we got to Sweden, we shouldn't have bothered. The people
were not only a bit dour; they were also extremely xenophobic,
to the point of being almost hostile. We might have been
young but we were well behaved, polite and friendly. In
return all we got were scowls that seemed to say 'go away
foreign swine'.
The country was dank and grey and the people were the same.
I would like to know where all those supposedly gorgeous
Swedish females were hiding, as we never found any. Food
was awful; drink expensive and in short supply, friendliness
non-existent. Stockholm might have been a beautiful city
in summer, (this was winter) trouble is it was full of Swedes.
Colour? The ice and snow in the Arctic had more colour.
We were just glad to get away from the place with its very
strange and insular people.
During my time in Her Majesty's illustrious Navy, this was
the only occasion that I ever returned from leave with money
in my pocket.
Anna took up the tale.
As you can see, it wasn't really that bad and it was a
true account of how we found things to be.
When the book was first published I had to do a few book
signings (it's in the contract). However, as I am not good
with people, Sally (Sylvia in the book), used to come with
me as a sort of 'control board'.
We were in a very outer suburb of Sydney signing a few (too
few) books, when this chap walked up to the desk and said.
(I will try and get the accent).
"You, de Harry Drake fella, you no look so toof, me
tinks me could bang you on da head good ya.". Now I
gathered that he was probably a Swede but wasn't overly
concerned as he wasn't the big Scandinavian stereotype;
in fact he was about 5ft nine inches, skinny, balding and
with adult acne.
I slowly stood up, making sure that I was even standing
on the small footrest that had been provided. This took
my real height of around 6 ft (180cm) to about 6ft 4 inches.
On seeing this the little chap seemed to lose most of his
interest in banging me on da head. However, I had to give
him his due, he still had some stupidity to impart. As he
walked away he said.
"Ve took pictures of you Harry Drake, ve know what
you look like - ya". I pointed out that they needn't
to have gone to all that trouble as my picture was on the
back of the book. His parting shot was, "Ve know where
Sweden is in da world, Sweden is great place". I replied
that I also knew where Sweden was 'in da world' Just find
Norway and it's on the right. It was at this stage that
Sally kicked me from under the table - and it hurt.
Other contacts from the Swedish 'B grade hit men club'
have only been by email. I can't really see what all the
fuss is about. I simply told it as it happened. They were
a dull, boring, stingy, mean spirited bunch. Perhaps it's
changed, who knows but I was writing about then, not now.
Still, if I suddenly win a competition, that I don't remember
entering, that gives me a holiday in Sweden as the prize,
I don't think I will go. I might get 'banged on da head'.
Nasty that head banging stuff. My new neighbor is a blond
chap going by the name of Sven - I really hope he's Norwegian
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