This must be the official definition of `heaven`. Take a photo. Of me. Sat in first class on the Nex to Narita Airport. Doing nothing but gazing out at the suburbs zooming by. I must admit, it did take me a good ten minutes to subdue the urge to give the trolley lady a hand with her orders. Not to mention, the the ads hanging a little bit too much to the left for my liking. That sinking feeling that I`ve forgotten something is well...sinking a tad after I wrote `the kids are at home with Dad` a hundred times. I can actually hear my thoughts now that the fervour of three wee ones all grappling for my attention, at the same moment is now Dad`s predicament across Tokyo somewhere. Yeah. Take a picture and place it next to the definition for `heaven` in an English dictionary.
"Ahem." I hear a throat clearing opposite and am stunned to see that it is my Grandma sat opposite. "Gran," I exclaim joyously," What a lovely surprise! You are looking well!" For a person who died eight years ago, surprise was rather an understatement of the situation.
"You need to wake up,lovely," she purred balancing a tuna sushi roll between deftly held chopsticks. "There`s a man in the garden." Wrenching my head round to look out the window at the hundreds of gardens in differing states of bloom, I enquire. " Which garden?" With a sigh and a smile, Grandma replies. "Your garden,darling. There is a man in your garden!"
I sit up rigid in the bed. The Dreambends. Almost as bad as the Babybends. I swear there is a tangible smell l of Old Spice left from that encounter and then I hear the noise. On the balcony from the twin`s room next door.
I still cannot rationalise what I did. Call me stupid, naive, brave or just empowered from witnessing my dead `meat and Yorkshire puddings` Gran consume sushi heartily with double helpings of wasabe. Obviously being dead adds a new lease of life to things. I got out of bed. Walked into the twin`s bedroom. Saw the outline of someone on the balcony outside, fiddling with the door. I strode over to the door. Unlocked it, opened it and came nose to nose with a very startled young man. "What the hell do you think you are doing on my balcony?" I roared in Japanese, feeling anger bubbling up through me. "Get off my balcony NOW!" To which, he swiftly acquiesced, jumping over the railings, hitting the tree nearby and thudding to the garden below.Pulling his T-shirt over his head, in a vain attempt to hide his features only resulted in a rather nasty collision with another tree. Gobsmacked, I watched as he pulled a can of beer from the air,took a swig and he was over the wall into the neighbour`s garden.
One police car, six police bikes, and a total of ten police later in my garden. It is 4am and pouring with rain. Two of the policemen know me from the summer when my underwear kept being stolen from my washing line. Victoria Secret, to say the least. Worth bringing the FBI in, in my opinion.
"So?" Policeman in charge pauses," He was a burglar?" I shake my head. " I am not sure!" And further to the officer`s enquiring look. " I mean a real burglar wouldn`t wear a white T-shirt and be drinking beer in between jobs, would he?" I shrug. "Totally stupid,right?" I reinforce with a smile. "Unless he was a foreigner," bursts out one officer laughingly patting me on the back, followed with hearty guffaws filling the night sky as I quickly interjected. " Or a member of the Japanese police constabulary!" as more back tapping and laughter rose up. Rose up around my husband stood horrified to the spot, making slashing noises across his throat at me.
Ten minutes later they caught him. He was found terrified, hiding in a bush in some nearby garden. Drunk and rambling on that a foreigner had tried to murder him.
We found his shoes, wedged in the tree this morning. If he wants them, he can come and ring my doorbell like a civilised person and ask for them back.
Oh....and the police, after I thanked them for all their help and kindness, informed me that my kidnapped underwear is now a cold case......
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