No. 75 Competitive Hut Syndrome with a Swede

Enduring a lonely evening at the Olive grove camp, I picked some figs from the tree that weren’t ripe, ate them and at sunset, watched Pelekas campers trudge down to the beach with bowls, plates and bottles for a bbq.  I left them to it and slept, dreaming of sand sandwiches but woke way too early with the braying of a donkey.  I looked out of the tent, Wand was sat cross-legged chewing on raw figs and enjoying the sunrise.

“He’s fucking the donkey,” he laughed.  “Does it every morning.”  I knew of bestiality with Welsh sheep and dolphin sex in Florida, but I had never written a song before and this strange scenario, truth or not, got my pen flowing on paper writing verse.  I hadn’t written anything creative since forced English assignments at school.

“Watched upon by manky hens, in he goes his knees they bend, the beast begins to makes it’s noise, is this the sound of a mule who enjoys…” etc.

This new-found creativity lifted my Pelekas spirits, I drank Ouzo with Wand then walked to the beach and lay on my pink floral sheet watching the beautiful Swedish couple I’d seen get together a few days ago.  They rode the waves and each other, I yearned to be her.

With new confidence I lay on my front, chin resting on my knuckles.  I stared at the man, hoping he would feel my longing penetrate through his lean, brown body.  The couple came out of each other ( my fantasy ) and the water , then walked back onto the beach, hand in hand.  He smiled at me and my smile back followed him into the hut.  I waited like a cat by a bird feeder.

A group with back packs congregated outside the hut and the woman came out dressed and packed, and left with them.  The travellers trudged along the beach, clearly not wanting to leave Pelekas Paradise, as it was in that moment.  Once out of sight, the man came out and lay naked beside me on the sheet, he leaned over and ran his fingers lightly up and down my spine.  I was levitating.

Sometimes the best relationships are without words.

I moved into the man’s hut until Marni’s Lang went back to America and my Swede back to Sweden.


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