Have another oldie...

Is there anything more miserable than an 18 year old that has never been kissed? All around you, less witty, less intelligent and, if we're being honest, less attractive people, are snogging and, no doubt, in private doing even more intimate things. But not you, oh no. And then what happens? Yes you do miserably in your A Levels and fail to get that place at Liverpool Uni you had your heart set on - well, perhaps not you, but that was the situation the young Che found himself in. Not just miserable and with no idea what to do with his life, but also with a fully functioning, nay, eager and constantly throbbing member and a pair of bollocks on permanent double shifts, producing enough spermatozoa to re-populate China every 48 hours.

Miserable? The only thing keeping me going was the support of friends and the regular gaseous intake of combustible resin of the cannabis sativa plant. So, in this unstable condition of sexual readiness partially suppressed by dope, I spent a year working while my kindly but clueless parents convinced me to sign up for a degree in catering administration in Bournemouth (don't ask).

I saved up and gave myself a decent summer holiday though. I got an inter-rail card: South of France, Rome, Florence, Italian Riviera, Austria, Germany, Luxembourg and finally, Amsterdam - where I was able to renew my acquaintance with the above-mentioned herbal remedy and reconcile myself to three more weeks at home before going to college to do some mickey mouse course. It also softened the blow that, despite travelling alone, staying in Youth Hostels and meeting dozens of people of both sexes from all over, I had spectacularly failed to get any girlie action whatsoever.

Did I ask earlier whether there was anything more miserable than an 18 year old that has never been kissed? Well, by now, I'd had my 19th birthday.

Heigh ho and back to Blightly. After a feed a sleep and a bath I felt 'normal' again...so I hastily called some mates and went to the pub or maybe went to someone's place for a smoke. Funnily enough, I hate telling traveller's tales normally; you've been off having adventures, if only minor ones, while the folks back home have been doing diddly squat. I don't like bragging and anyway...you had to have been there. So I'd catch up on who was shagging who and who wasn't any more etc. and I sat in the background getting bored.

Then, at the weekend, there was a party at my best mate's ex's house. We were sitting around chatting, I knew everyone more or less, when a girl called Mandy suddenly said: "I really want to go to Greece, but I can't find anyone to go with."

"I'll go with you." I said. I had planned to go to Greece on my inter-rail card but missed the train by ten minutes so ended up going to Vienna instead. I knew Mandy, she'd been in my history A Level class, but if you drew a set of Venn diagrams of those of us at 6th Form College, she would only have been in one of the same ones as me, if you know what I mean. In my close circle of friends she was tolerated though not specially close to anyone. I could feel several pairs of eyes turning my way as the eyebrows rose, but what the fuck? she wanted to go to Greece, so did I; I couldn't bear the thought of sitting around for the next three weeks doing nothing, let's go.

Mandy wasn't really my 'type', being a bit too curly headed and rosy-cheeked, rather than the scaled-down Liz Taylor or Sophia Loren which was more my ideal, but she was certainly nice enough to make the thought of spending a couple of weeks in her company, although a little unexpected, certainly not repellent.

The very next day, I met up with Mandy (after breaking the news to my pretty dis-chuffed parents) and we went up to Town to buy some train tickets. Back in the old days, you couldn't ring up or order online, you had to queue up at Victoria and pay in pound notes. Another couple of days and we were off.

I'd never travelled with anyone before - always the solo wanderer me, so I found it a bit strange at first. I felt a bit protective, but Mandy was an independent girl - an only child and parents separated. Although I had three brothers, I had no sisters, so didn’t really know what to expect, but I got used to things fairly quickly. It's a long train journey from London to Brindisi and includes a couple of nights; we'd not shelled out for couchettes so slept in seats. Occasionally, Mandy's head would rest on my shoulder and, although I didn't fancy her, it made a pleasant change. We got on fine together, any misgivings I may have had proved to be unfounded, and sometimes I'd chuckle quietly to myself as I remembered the faces of our friends...

Brindisi. This was early September and southern Italy was HOT, which was fine. I liked it hot in those days. We found the boat to Greece and bought the cheapest tickets: deck class. On board, we settled down on a bench and got chatting to a group of Swedish lads, I'm sure they weren't all called Sven, but odds are, at least one of them was. We did the old traveller thing of sharing what we had, bread, sausage, huge ripe peaches, bottles of warm red wine, cigarettes etc. I can still feel the fur of the peach on my lips as I bit into the ripe flesh and the juice spilled down my chin and neck, then the over-heated red wine, straight from the bottle, passed around the circle - rough, warm, warming. As the sun went down we were treated to a magnificent sunset and then the breathtaking stars of the Mediterranean night sky. I'd always thought that shooting stars were either a kind of myth or else a rarity, a bit like a comet or a total eclipse. Out on the dark sea, lying on a sleeping mat watching shooting star after shooting star streak across the sky as we fell asleep...

We stuck with the Swedes after we landed as we were all headed for Athens. No-one had any idea where to stay in Athens, but then again, we weren't much bothered either. Just as well we didn't worry, as it wasn't a problem; at Athens station we were met by a Kiwi who convinced us to stay at the Hotel Byron - he was given free board and lodging to do so, but he was refreshingly honest about it’s lack of luxury, while convincing us by it’s low price. It wasn’t long before we were trailing along behind him like a bunch of over-grown school kids following a teacher on a school trip.

We all chose to sleep on the roof. It was the cheapest option and the previous night’s experience on the deck of the boat had been so lovely we didn't really want to be confined to a room. Up we went, laying down our sleeping mats, un-rolling our sleeping bags, standing our rucksacks nearby - silent sentinels. Then a quick shower and back downstairs to the bar/lounge to sample the first of many cold, Greek beers. Big pint-sized bottles - rare in those days - and so cheap. Mandy and I had been travelling together now for about three days and must have looked like an old married couple. We were sitting back to back with our feet up on a low bench, chatting to Swedes and others staying at the Byron.

"Do you love her?" Sven asked me, gesturing towards Mandy with his beer bottle.

"Eh? Oh, no. We're just friends. She wanted to go to Greece, so did I, so we went together."

"She's a very nice girl," said Sven. I guessed he fancied her and kind of wished him luck. A couple of more beers and it was time to go to bed. Up the four flights of stairs onto the roof, with the lights of Athens all around, and the myriad stars above. I climbed into my sleeping bag and shrugged off my clothes as Mandy did the same in her bag, next to me. I turned to face her, "Well, here we are!" I said, she smiled, reached out an arm, put it around my neck and pulled me towards her for the first snog of my life.

I'm pleased to report that although totally unexpected, I wasn't shocked by this development and, in fact, I very rapidly threw myself into the proceedings with the appropriate gusto. Soon, I had transferred to her sleeping bag and was on top of her, kissing for England, and then...I can still feel it today, in my mind's groin, so to speak. She reached down and firmly but gently, and yet urgently and fervently took hold of little Che and guided him towards that place, that secret, sacred place.

Could there be anything more surprising for the 19 year old virgin than to discover that a girl - any girl - is willing and anxious to have sex with him, in fact just as keen as he is to have sex with her? And if you have had to endure those long, hard years of girl-lessness, what better place to finally discover their joys than under the stars on a warm summer night in the eternal city of Athens?

Well worth waiting for. I lay back and Mandy rested her head on my young man's chest and I placed a protective arm around her.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:31, 10 replies)

I like this....
...mostly because all the way through I was expecting a terrible pun and, for once, was wrong! Made me smile a lot, this story.
(Lord of Balrogs, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:46, closed)

This^^
is so lovely...I almost filled up there..
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:48, closed)

That was lovely
and made me want to go on holiday.

*daydreams*
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:54, closed)

Someone's hacked Che's account!
This isn't nearly bleak or noir enough...
(username1, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 15:18, closed)

Great read, mate
cheers.
( SpankyHanky, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 17:19, closed)

Awwww!
That's a lovely post mate. Though the funny posts are good, it's nice to have someone express their emotions from time to time. :D
(Fredz A graveyard of hopes, a dump of ambition, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 18:04, closed)

*enclickens*
Haven't heard nearly enough from you lately, Mr. Grimsdale.

Lovely tale. Have a click.
( Moey, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 13:10, closed)

Ahh...
That's brightened up my afternoon rather beautifully.

Well done old chap, jolly well done.
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 17:15, closed)

Really lovely
Evocative writing there, old chap. I think I missed it first time round.

*click*

EDIT: Weirdly, I've used the same word to describe your post as you did to describe mine. I think it's the right word though.
( chart cat has an itch, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 9:43, closed)

You always
leave me with the warm fuzzies.
(Scritty Bakerman., Tue 28 Apr 2009, 19:29, closed)