House on the Vistula (an Ed Sheeran story)

Chapter One

So hi there, this is the introductory chapter. It has a lot of monologue.
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Ed Sheeran had a funny way of crossing paths with me every so often. Most people don't even get to meet him once, yet life was so determined to shove us together that we came across each other multiple times. The first time I met him was something I will remember for the rest of my life.

That summer, I was determined to go somewhere other than my grandma's farm for once for my summer, so my Mum signed me up for a trip to Greece- with a bunch of Polish kids I had never met in my entire life.

My annoying younger brother, who I am convinced not only is a psychopath, but also doesn't have a brain in that massive skull of his (it's kind of like that disappointing moment when you're eating sunflower seeds, and you peel a big one open, just to have it turn out to be empty. I live with that disappointment every day), broke his foot right before the holiday.

Whilst my Mum drove me to where where everyone was meeting up, I was suddenly wishing he hadn't broken his foot, and was going with me. As much as he's a pain in the arse, I'd rather sit next to him and walk around with him, rather than feeling awkward among other Polish kids whom I don't know. It didn't help that I was the oldest there; the majority of them were an average of 13-15 year olds, and those are the absolute worst of teenage girls. Yes, I was offended by that when I was that age, too. However, now that I am older, I wish I could go back in time and kick myself in the face.

Honestly, I just wished my Mum was coming with me to Greece, even if it meant not doing anything crazy. The second the coach drove off, after an hour of going through passports and registers, I was about to refuse to go. But it was too late.

And although I wasn't then, I'm so glad it was too late to change my mind.

We had a stop in each country, each of which I had been looking forward to; spending the long, agonizing hours on the coach daydreaming about eating a proper meal. You can imagine the disappointment and utter betrayal I felt when every 45 minute stop was a McDonald's, and everything else being a petrol station. If I was traveling with people from back in London, where I lived, sure; I'd expect McDisappointment upon McDisappointment.

But for the love of all things good, aren't all Polish people health freaks like my family and myself?!

I didn't expect freaking sushi bars or a nice warm soup followed by a typical Polish dinner, but I was hoping for something other than constant McDonald's. Once in Italy, we actually stopped at a large gas station with a wide variety of food. It was 6am, and I was now feeling more sickly than hungry, so I settled for a prawn sandwich for €4.

I remember all the details of that journey to this day.

The worst thing was not being able to fart. If I could have a normal fart, I wouldn't have to sit all queasy and praying I don't fart by accident on the silent coach. Or maybe the girl next to me taking up too much space. At one point during the cruise, she took one of my seats at night. We both had two seats each to sleep. I went to the top deck to have a fag around 1am, and when I got back, she had took the armrest between us down and took up one of my seats. So I was trying to sleep in ine seat, and desperately trying to be more polite than her and not get my feet in her face.

Of course, there's the question you must be killing to ask; did you eat real pizza and ice-cream? Well, yes. We had a 2-hour visit to San Marino; a small country surrounded by Italy. The pizza was quite a disappointment. That was really sad. But it was just one shop, in San Marino.

The ice-cream however, was amazing. The infamous Italian ice-cream and I; a match made in Heaven. According to me, of course. It's not like I actually had any friends to share any opinions with. Which is what made seeing Ed so easy during the week I spent in Tolo, a quiet, beautiful village in south Greece.

I have always thought he chose Tolo for a holiday because of just that; it being a small, quiet village. It's a great place to relax and forget about anything hectic or fast-paced. As much as he loves- and he truly does- the crowds, the noise and the liveliness of cities and concerts, he also adores peace and quiet. Kinda like me.

After the cruise, we piled back into the coach and endured another 4-hour journey to Tolo. Before we even went to our hotel, we went to the restaurant we'd be eating in every day for the next week. I was the only one to actually eat the food without making a fuss. All the other girls complained about every single meal. I felt really sorry for the cooks. The food was actually nice. The only meal that I couldn't finish was pasta in a really fatty sauce. It was so fatty that zi thought it would clog the arteries to my heart right there and then.

Having made no friends yet, I ended up out with a 12-year-old and two fourteen-year-olds who thought they were older. I mean, I didn't expect little shits who thought they were superior to me and that they were old enough to prance around our apartment in their underwear and bra, not because it was hot, but because they thought they were being sexy. And I certainly didn't expect them to get drunk and shriek throughout the night, making it harder than it already was to sleep. I got more mosquito bites that week than I ever had in my life, even in Poland. I'm not entirely certain they were really drunk, or whether they did the typical "oh I'll pretend to get drunk so seem cute and crazy (but really be so annoying that people want to drown me in a fountain)" act.

Don't get me wrong.

I'm all for having fun and doing crazy shit. And underwear and bras weren't any different to bikinis. But these girls were taking the absolute piss, and I wasn't really looking to be sent home for their underage drinking and obscene behaviour. If you're going to drink at a young age, at least be quiet about it.

The next day, we had a day to relax; we went to the beach first thing. It was 10 in the morning when we walked to the beach, but it was already 29ºC and the sand felt like lava under my feet; it burned even if it slipped into my flip flops. I covered myself in suncream, but somehow I wasn't convinced that I could go this whole week without getting burned or suffering from heatstroke. There's not much you can say about a day spent at the beach, swimming and sunbathing by yourself. After dinner, we headed out for a walk around Tolo before going back to our hotel- as fun as it was at the time, it was quite an uneventful day.

The night however, is a completely different story.

After the girls had actually gone to bed, relatively early I must say, I headed out. Being my typical self, I was worried about getting caught and whatnot- I didn't want to get sent home; that would be the final straw for my Mum.

Once I was off the hotel grounds, I relaxed and put my earphones in for the walk. It was so peaceful and dark; it felt almost freeing. I must have been walking for about fifteen minutes when I stopped on the beach and took a fag out of it's pack. After flicking it a few times, my lighter came to life and I lit the cigarette between my lips.

The relaxed, careless feeling after a few puffs made the few years taken off my life seem worth it. Nothing could make me feel that way, and I definitely wasn't going to let a person make me feel that way. A hand on my shoulder snapped me out of it pretty quick. I spun around, my arm pulled behind me, ready to plummet my cigarette into my intruder's face.

"Hey! Hey!" A voice exclaimed, and a hand grabbed my wrist midswing.

Then I looked straight at the culprit and my fag fell out of my hand.

"I just wanted to borrow your lighter," Ed Sheeran exclaimed defensively, a nervous yet amused bubble of laughter following shortly after that statement.

Oh, shit - was my first thought.