The Travels & Adventures of Flog-It Removals.

Picture this, Thursday 11th December, a sleepy little seaside village at about 6pm. Just turned dark, but still early. People are still at work so no traffic around really. The only noise you can hear on the hillside apart from the local choir of dogs is the sound of Nicky & myself having a real good screaming match about something.... I forget what. Nicky decides that to cool off she needs to go for a quiet drive so off she drove nice and gently (as you do when you are p****d off) in the direction of a local beach that we have not yet visited to see what it is like and to sit and cool off for a while. Within about a minute of her car leaving the driveway the phone rings, the caller ID giving the hint that she wanted to continue the arguement from the safety of her car so our Son took the call. Then all I could really hear was some hysterical voice screaming down the blower and Andrew shouting back some kind of garbled junk about guns, murderers and not dying?? Taking over the phone call and reading between the lines and taking out the swearing and screaming I heard, "There's a man with a gun, he stopped me, waved it at the window and is now following me in his car and I am lost and cannot get out of this place (Aigua Xelida) as all the streets are dead ends. Help. Don't come and get me because you won't find me because I am lost." Well I wasn't really in the mood for a car chase and another few brandies would have helped but without further ado I jumped into the ice cream van which luckily we had just bought the week before (if you read my blog you will know what I am talking about, if you don't.... Shame on you!!) or I wouldn't have been able to go after her anyway as the truck is temporarily SNAFU'd awaiting fixing for the UK run in January. If you have goods on that trip don't worry it will be ready... Fingers crossed. Now at this point I had not yet changed the battery on the tin can so the first part of my gallant rescue attempt involved rolling halfway down the mountainside under cover of darkness so I could drop the clutch & jump start my high speed hearse. Once at the bottom, engine running, lights now on, turbo boost on full power (I told you to read my previous posts) I screamed (literally thanks to the wheelbearing) round the island to go back up past our house to the top and then round the island into Aigua Xelida and followed the signs for the beach. Dead-end. What is this place? A quick three point turn and I was on my way back out when I was confronted by a woman asking what I was looking for but not really in the mood for a chat and on the phone to Nicky at the time I just hit the gas and went for it. At the top of the hill I stopped as Nicky knew where I was and a few seconds later arrived and we drove off and parked up for her to try to regain some calm before the few hundred meter drive back to the house. As we arrived back at the house guess who was just driving past, yes that's right, Mr Inadequate and his wife - The woman who confronted me in the street. I say Mr Inadequate because he was short, fat and bald, obviously the sort of person that needs a gun to command respect otherwise people would just laugh at him. I am not trying to stereotype him, but evrybody knows one and he was just our local little man with a big head trying to be something he is not and somehow got himself a job as vigilante for the local private estate, most of which is owned by rich Russians. Okay so it turns out that he was arguing Nicky was on private land, but all she did, and I did the same, was follow signs for the beach just like every other tourist in the summer. I bet he doesn't chase them, oh no there's far too many and if he waved his gun at them they'd kill him. But in winter, when trespassers arrive one at a time, and they are female, it gives him chance to flex his muscles, prove his manhood in is own tiny mind and give him power over a defenceless woman before he gets back home to his wife who asks him, "What did you take your water pistol out with you for you great fat spawny eyed parrot faced wazzock? You could have got youself arrested, then what would I do for money? If you're going to pick on someone find one bigger than you, at least then if he kills you the Russians will pay me off so I can get myself a real man who doesn't need to put a gun in his pocket when he is pleased to see me."
Oh well, C'est la vie!!