25/06/2007 by Uncle.

With all these Brits heading off to live in France we have had quite few jobs over there recently. Some have gone better than others, but what is emerging is that people are getting themselves into some right pickles the other side of the Channel.

What has been surprising is the number of people who have “disappeared” into thin air. Of course people don’t really just disappear, there is always more to it than that. Its a bit like what happened in Spain in the early 1980s. For some reason people want to start a new.

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself rattling out West on the tube to Ruislip, which is sort of North of Heathrow airport. I got to the address, which was a reasonable looking semi detached house, to find nobody in. Great, just what I needed, a wasted journey. I waited for about ten minutes and was about to sling my hook when my mobile rang. The lady was running late and would be there in 5 minutes.

15 minutes later and she turned up in one of those 4 wheel drive Volvos. She was early forties and not a bad looking woman and she knew it . Long tanned legs, short skirt, large breasts almost fettered into a white blouse. Not that I paid her any attention.

She enthused her apology and ushered me in, all the time telling me about the traffic and school run etc.

I made a comment about her tan and she said that they always spent half term in Barbados. Alright for some.
The first thing I noticed when I went into the lounge, was the bugger off Bang and Olufsen flat screen TV and the B&O stereo. Very pricey gear indeed. Two laptops a couple of gameboy, X-box thingys. As my mum used to say they didn’t appear to be pulling the devil by the tail.
She made me a cup of tea and sat opposite me all the time chat chat chat.

Now I know I am right sexy geezer and bring out the lust in woman, and this woman was trying to distract me, and actually, every time she opened her long tanned legs she did a bloody good job. Het thongs was either very skimpy or non existent, and another movement confirmed the absence of material, between the shaved pleasure dome and moi. I should tell you that this has absolutely sod all to do with the job but it was interesting and better to look at than the expensive telly.

She went on to tell me that her husband was a plumber, sorry domestic heating and water engineer, but worked for some kind of specialist company installing air-conditioning or ventilation systems or something like that. She had three children and they all went to private schools. I made a mental note to become a plumber in the next life.
So why was I here? Well, this lady had a father who is 68 years of age and he had disappeared in France about two weeks ago and she was very upset at her daddies disappearance. Cue tears and she wanted me to find him and bring him home to the bosoms of his loving family.

Of course the billion dollar question is how did she know he had disappeared in France and what was he doing there. I was not expecting the response

“Because he went to Lourdes” she said very matter of factly.

“Lourdes?”

“Yes, you know, Lourdes, where the miracles happen”

“And he disappeared there?”

“Yes” She said looking at me as if I was some kind of defective.

“Look Mrs M..”

“Call me Amy” she interjected wafting her hand in the air.
“OK Amy, Millions of people go to Lourdes every year, and as far as I am aware there my be the odd miracle, but not many disappear. Look this may seem like a daft question, but what was he doing in Lourdes?”

“He went on a pilgrimage, why else would he go there?” “In fact he goes at least twice a year sometimes three time. Has done for the last ten years or so” she said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Twice, maybe three times a year, he must be a very devout catholic” I said as a not so devout catholic.

“Oh he isn’t a catholic” she said shaking her head, so her ample breasts wobbled like to dogs fighting in a kit bag “He just likes going there. In fact this was his second visit this year and he was talking about going again in September”

“And he goes for a week at a time ” I asked

“Oh no he goes for much longer than that. In fact this time it was for three weeks and last time in January it was almost a month and he was going to go for three or four weeks in September. Why did you think he would he go for a week?”

“I was just supposing” I lied. I have never been on a pilgrimage to Lourdes but I know people who have and it is for a week once a year.

“Who did he go with?” i continued

“On his own”

“No I meant which tour company, but as you have mentioned it it is useful to know he travelled alone” I said

“He booked it all himself. Got his flight on line and sorted his accommodation the same way I suppose”
I asked a whole load of boring questions about when he left and the last time they heard from him. It transpired that when he was in Lourdes he would phone home maybe no more than once a week.
I established that Dad lived with is wife in Egham, Surrey and was originally an accountant by trade and now had his own small engineering business based in Staines. Staines is sort of next door to Egham. Mum was at home but had not thought it odd that her husband had not returned from his three week religious jamboree. They had not contacted the police because they didn’t think it was police matter if a 68 year old bloke just vanishes into thin air in a foreign country.  I think if my dad went missing in France I would speak to the old bill, or at least make some enquiries straight off, not wait two weeks, but that’s me.

Amy gave me a couple of photos of her dad and some more general background info on him. Nothing stunning just stuff. In fact Amy didn’t really know a lot about her dads activities apart from the fact that he liked to paint (Acrylics mostly but some water colours) and had been warned off the demon drink as he had had a bit of a problem.

The telephone rang and she went to answer it and spoke quietly but not quietly enough.
“I cant talk, I have someone here” she said “Ten minutes at the lido bye”

As she sat down again she made no attempt to cover the fact that she was not wearing knickers.  She seemed a bit breathless and I would say she was either getting a buzz at exposing herself to me or in anticipation of her rendez-vous at the lido. Whilst this might be the thing or erotic fiction and men’s fantasy’s this was in reality rather odd behaviour indeed and does not happen to me. Often . The whole thing was odd. The Hole thing hahaha - that was not a deliberate crap pun.

Next stop was to visit mum and have a chat with her and see if there was a anything at the house that might help.

I have nothing against older women but I did hope mum would be wearing underwear.   I had seen enough wildlife for one day.

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25/06/2007 by Uncle.

It took me a while to recover sufficiently to return home after my less than happy experience at Hotel Bob in Z.  Eventually however I got home and saw Dr Death for a full check up. He warned me that the beating I had taken could cause some short term problems and to be a little careful in what I did.

As it was I had a no stress trip to the USA lined up. I was due to go to New York for business and to Connecticut to see friends.  Not a long trip but one I intended to be pleasant.

Anyway, I had been in New York about 3 days or so when I had some really bad chest pains.  I was sure it was acid heartburn but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a touch concerned.  The friend I was working with,  Charlie D, also had exactly the same chest pains.  Maybe we had eaten something or there was bug going around.  I have to be honest, and say that the idea of shelling out a load of wedge to be told by an American doctor that I had heartburn pissed me off  a bit.  I managed to convince Charlie D that he should see the doctor, which he did.

It transpired he had a reflux caused by a minor stomach bug.  I was relieved and happy at saving $50 or however much the consultation was.  two days later I rang Charlie only to be told by the person answering that Charlie had died suddenly the night before.

I had a major touch of the seconds, and went straight to the quack who booked me into a hospital for a battery of tests.  It cost me (or rather my insurance company when they eventually coughed up) a bloody small fortune.  It transpired I had heartburn, caused by a reflux of acid due to  a minor stomach bug.

I was livid.

I hot footed it over to Charlie’s place and saw his widow.

“He was fine apart from that minor pain the doctor said was a tummy bug” She said
“was it sudden” I asked

“Oh yes he didn’t suffer” she said “It was very quick, the truck hit him and he died instantly”

Bugger.

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