17) Two Naked Swedish Girls (part deaux)

17. Two Naked Swedish Girls (part deaux)

So I wake up, nice and early, and phone my Mum.  As I do on a Saturday morning.

And my left foot is killing me after yomping up that bloody hill. 

Never had to do it before.  But last night, of course, as well as a no Tick and no Tock, there was no cab, no No7 bus either. Fucking French.

But I remain cheerful.

Penny had said, when she read the stories, ‘ I hope you never get laid, Peter, so these stories don’t stop’.

Bit of a mixed blessing that Penny.

And I’d phoned Rachael from the Swedish Beach Party, after the shower and she’d been rooting for me “Awa the lad!”

So I ticked her and said ‘Another bloody story!’

And she said later ‘ I think Penny’s jinxed ya.’

And I limp down to Midi del la Plage and read Nice-Metro and L’Equipe.  Fantastic paper L’Equipe.  And it’s the France game today and so ‘Avant '. And they think I’m a little French in there, like they think I’m a little Italian in Zilli’s, and a little odd most everywhere else.

And I go to the Old Porte and get the Sun (d'accord) and The Guardian and The Times.

And I tick Tock.

‘Morning gorgeous.  Call me when you wake up’

And Tock  tocks

‘Who are youJ’

But French Telecoms sends all her texts twice. So when I went to bed I got:

‘Tock – empty’

'Tock – empty’

when I woke up I get:

‘Tock - Who are youJ’

‘Tock - Who are youJ’

So I tock:

‘Peter’

‘Still Peter’

And by now I’m having breakfast at the Magestic (all the perks without the room charge) and I’ve bumped into Grant.  And I tell him about ‘2 Naked Swedish Girls’ and he can’t believe it.  And he especially can’t believe it when my phone tocks and it’s Tock, saying she’d fallen asleep again (sent ticks asking her to breakfast etc) ‘J’

And I say to Grant, ‘You’re in a story’.  And that takes some getting used to.  He can accept the laddish take of ‘2NSG’ but finds it harder to ‘get’ that Tock is tocking me now, here, with him.

And it’s the same when Louise gets angry with Randy and I say ‘phone her’ and click on her number.  And Penny asks ‘How’s America?’ and I say ‘call her’ and click on her.

It’s difficult to marry stories with reality. And now the stories are catching up with reality, or vice-verse.  And it’s even harder for me sometimes.

And now girls are reading the stories and I can see them thinking ‘ I don’t want to be a column.’  To which the only answer is ‘Then don’t be an unsuccessful date’.  I only write about unsuccessful dates.  It’s just that all my dates are unsuccessful.  So far.  I hope. 

Be a successful date, praise be to whoever, and I promise not to write about it.

Give me strength.

So anyway, Grant goes off.  And Tock falls asleep again.  And again.  Obviously had a tiring evening.  If only I had.  And I get tired of ticking and tocking and I phone her and she says she’s so sleepy.  And I say ‘Are you alone?’  And she says ‘I’m in bed with Tick'.

And I make a logical suggestion which would have moved things along considerably.  But she says, after a pause, no she’s too tired.  'Phone me in an hour.’

So I have lunch with Vicky.  On the Boardwalk. Which was lovely.  And I phone Tock in an hour and she’s on a yacht. Which is no longer surprising, nothing Tock does will surprise me any more.

So I carry on having lunch with Vicky, which is lovely.

And it’s the Swedish game and Tock says she’s sailing for the beach to watch the game.  But there’s not a lot of wind.

Suffice to say that once Germany were 2-0 up I know there was no point seeing Tock.  They’d be crying into their Schnapps and  nobody mopes and drinks as the Swedes do.

So I watched the game with David F + F, from Rome  Which was hilarious.  A like mind.

Next day was the England game.  And as a warm-up I seduce a French woman from 20 feet without saying a word. 

Told you that sudden storm had a story in it.

She’s rather lovely.  And with a bore. And we foot-tick.  And I smile, cheekily.  And she raises her glass to me, and smiles.

Then she walks past me to the toilets and I follow her and she’s waiting and says ‘You’re Angletterre’ and I say ‘Yes’ and she says ‘I’m French, unfortunately.’

Not a line you hear often.

And she says, ‘I’ll meet you at The Magestic in an hour.’

Not a line I hear often.

So I wait, as I do.  Then she appears and says, she has to take boring Swiss banker to aeroport.  I say ‘fine’.

Then she ticks later and says, maybe we’ll email.

And I tock ‘Pas demain, pas manyana. Carpe diem. Toujours.’ ‘cos I’m getting hacked off.

And she phones and says ‘I’ll see you in the bar in two minutes.’

And we meet in the bar.  And she’s lovely.  And she wants to be what I am, and I can help her.  And it’s going so fast to even think if it’s going well.

And then ‘le boyfriend’ appears in the conversation. Join the fucking boat.

And then Tock ticks. ‘We’re in the pub’.

And I say to Stephanie, pour comme elle t’appelle. Meet me at St Antoina at 8.30 tomorrow morning, before I go!  And she says, ‘Oui, d’accord!’

And I go to the pub for the England game, as you do – even in Cannes.

I get there and watch the 1^st half, but finding Tock is as hard in there as England finding the net.

So at Half Time I go outside and tick Tock.  Then two street rats swipe my phone.

U. (that’s jaw hitting floor)

Take my money, take my honour, take my name.  But don’t take my fucking phone.

U (that’s jaw still on floor)

So I go back in.  And Tock's there.  And when I tell them they know.  They’re producers.  And a frisson of terror goes through them.  Not the phone.

There was a lot of backing up the next day.

So after the game (missed Beck’s goal getting Tock a drink) we go to dinner.

And Tock is off, Tick is too far away, but Natalie is full on. 

So I give her a FBI t-shirt and she loves it, and wears it.  And the boyfriend is a long way away and I say ‘Cannes doesn’t count.’  Which has been known to work before. For other people.

But it didn’t. Pour moi. Poor me.

And as they left I said to Natalie ‘Meet me tomorrow at Bar St Antonia at 9.30 tomorrow’.  Because I’m in love with an Afrikaans – which is surprising.  And she said yes ‘cos she’s in love with me.  And you know, dear reader, I went to the bar at 8.30 and Stephanie no show, and at 9.30 Natalie no show.

You go figure.

I’m going home.

©peter hero 2006