French Life – Mr Allen 1

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.

6 Responses to “French Life – Mr Allen 1”

  1. Oh God!!! I really do hope mum was wearing underwear 🙁

  2. John Humphries says:

    Norman age has never stopped you before you old goat!

  3. dl says:

    Dead right, plumbing’s the place to be!

    …but maybe not after all, if the lady of the house can’t afford any undies.

    Don’t you sometimes wish for a riveting job like mine, where you go to an office, stare at a computer screen for a few hours, then go home again? OK, perhaps not.

  4. Oh you are incorrigible Norman!!!

    I have no doubt you have your finger on the button as we speak…
    or am I being premature?

    So glad Mum had her knickers on!!!

  5. You get into some interesting situations. Looking at it logically, though, she wouldn’t have removed her knickers for you before she had met you.

  6. Uncle says:

    Princesse – You and me both

    DL – Any job is a good job providing they pay you.

    John – Do you remember the girl in the leopard skin dress at that christmas party we went to at the Palais all those years ago? People in glass houses and all that!

    Minx – I did not put my finger on her button. Nothing was ever proven.

    GB- Good point, much as I would like to thnk it was my charisma and charm that made her want to meet me san coulotte, I suspect her lack of duds was more to do with someone else.

    I wonder do male gorillas get excited when they see a lady gorillas cha-cha covered in a bit of cloth? Perhaps you could draw on your circus days.

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