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.
