Unhinged Then Unfettered

© 2012 Mr. S. A. Ebeid. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 6/7/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8199-7 (sc)

ISBN: 9781-4685-8200-0 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Freedom

The Result

Luna

Til Death do us Part

Keelie-Keech

Cairo

Sweetlove

The cons

Free show

Wife beater

Tra

Humiliation

Debauchery

Islamic brotherhood

Payday

Reunion

Herpes

Betrayal

HIV

Sexual harassment

Bondage

The rat

Tet

BAC

Raptor

Christmas

Dumpsville

Zeus

Resignation

Cruelty

Retribution

Sharm El Sheik

Ismahane

Mumbai

Soul Mate

Goa

Pornography

Flat hunting

Interrogation

Mickey Mouse school

Engagement

Birthday

Sex play

Emotional blackmail

Breakdown

The slap

Monkey

Rhyl

Depression

Shafted

Riots and Revolutions

Charity

Confrontation

Mark and Rachel

Hallucinations

Light at the end of the Tunnel

Dedication

I wish to thank the Sly family, without their emotional support this book would never have been written.

Freedom

It was 1A.M. the only shop open was Costa Coffee. He never thought he would be pleased to see an American multi-national company at Heathrow Terminal Three. It sold delicious, aromatic coffee, allowed him to use their power for his laptop and supplied internet access; he couldn’t fault their customer service.

Great, Issum thought, not bad going for the start of my new life, Mandy gone, footloose and fancy-free.

The underground at midnight had been crowded and hot; he was soaked in sweat, which had dripped off him in torrents, forming puddles by his feet. Half the commuters near him had looked nervous; a sweating, uncomfortable, Middle Eastern man carrying a large rucksack and two other bags in their carriage, were they about to meet their maker?

Sitting in a stinky, saturated t-shirt, shirt and jumper, he wondered if he could face unpacking and getting changed. He didn’t look out of place, there were at least twenty-three potential suicide bombers dotted around the airport. One looked so convincing he checked he wasn’t boarding his plane.

He was white, blue-eyed and had short ginger hair and a beard longer and thicker than Bin Laden’s. An Islamic crescent was tattooed on his left calf. He was with three Pakistani looking Islamic Clerics having a conversation near the W H Smith shop. He could remember reading the new converts are the most fanatical. He took surreptitious video footage of them, ready to sell to CNN if his suspicions were not groundless.

Remembering his fantasy of a sexy, fit Asian or European woman sitting next to him on the plane, to convince to join the mile high club had swung it, I’m putting on fresh clothes he thought and took out a clean shirt.

The woman on the next table looked up from her computer for a split second as he took off his shirt. He smiled seductively, while stripping off his t-shirt, she refocused her glazed eyes on the computer screen; he hurriedly put on his shirt, hoping he wasn’t blushing.

Struggling to fight sleep, he couldn’t concentrate on watching his movies; his brain kept trying to switch off, so he ordered coffee to stay awake. By 4.30 A.M. he was ten pounds lighter. He wished he could lose weight that easily and decided it would be healthier for his wallet if he wandered round the terminal building.

He was jealous of the people sleeping by their bags; he wanted to sleep too. Obviously still traumatised by his wife doing a runner with their possessions and cash made him a Rottweiler with his belongings. They set him apart from being a total destitute. He couldn’t risk falling asleep and waking to nothing again.

He visited the toilet six times; the attendant looked at him smiling sympathetically.

I don’t have Delhi belly; I’m bored, tired and need to keep washing my face to stay awake.

Never mind, son she replied apathetically.

He realised she was probably 65.

He smiled and thought, The Labour Government is diabolical. They haven’t protected pensions and have forced people to work until they die in their traces. Thank God, I am leaving Britain.

He made it, 8.00 A.M. and Thai Air check in had a few members of staff arriving. He kept dosing off, while sitting and waiting on his baggage trolley by the red line. First in line and the check in girls looked nice.

He talked to one, who having learned how he had been awake all night waiting for the flight, promised to give him a window seat.

She weighed his bags, Oh no! 29 kilos! Quick drastic action, he thought.

Here is a box of chocolates to share for being so nice. he smiled and tried to look innocent.

Oh thank you that’s nice! she said as she showed the rest of the team.

Not a hitch, great window seat near the front of the plane and bags whisked through. It was an excellent one-pound special offer investment from TESCOS the day before and it worked a treat.

He queued to go through baggage check, took the computer out of his bag and took off his shoes. Relieved he had bought new socks. If it had been last week, they would have been crusty, smelt similar to old cheddar and would have had air conditioning vents. He panicked, had he changed his pants? He would hate the nice body searcher to probe him while he was wearing skanky kecks.

He passed through passport control and baggage check without a hitch. Relieved! He spotted 50% off Sekonda watches, £20.00, when he stepped into the duty free lounge. Rachel said he had an eye for the bargains, he guessed she was right. The shop was on the other side of the hall. He checked them out, not great but a watch is a watch and he should have one.

He checked out everything before he spent the last of his £40.00. Issum phoned Mark to let him know they had safely got rid of him, five months was a long time to have someone in your house even if they are a friend. He bet he had a hangover celebrating his eventual departure last night.

He bought the watch. He thought like a big game hunter; apply the prey with alcohol before striking. He needed cheap strong booze for special occasions, Excellent, Bombay Sapphire gin 47% two litres £19.00 that’ll do nicely.

Issum got on the plane, he couldn’t wait to chat up the woman next to him or fall asleep. He had spotted six beautiful fresh spring chickens in the departure hall. If he was lucky, one of them might sit by him.

Oh. A native middle-aged Asian woman and retired English gentleman took the seats and reflected the look of disappointment on his face. He realised it wasn’t going to be a pleasant trip.

She looked like a successful madam. He wondered how many brothels she owned and if she had paid her taxes? She smelt of cheap perfume, wore loud make up, and enough bling gold jewellery to pay off Britain’s National debt. She, single-handedly, proved you could take the woman out of the gutter but you can’t take the gutter out of the woman. She must have been good in bed or loaded to have married the person she was with.

He was six foot, well chiselled facial features, had an Etonian accent and may have contained blue blood however diluted. Alternatively, he could be a failed B movie actor, who had hit on hard times, embraced the proposal of comfortable living and free voyeurism in the brothel she ran.

The second option was feasible; she was trying to buy respectability.

He couldn’t sleep, quaffed breakfast, three beers and six orange juices. The woman used chemical warfare, silent but deadly smells wafted into his nose every 10 to 15 minutes, at first he nearly gagged but got used to it.

He passed out and suddenly woke. He was being prodded and pinched by the bitch.

Your elbow is over the seat. Move it please! she said aggressively.

I’m sorry! I was asleep and didn’t notice. Please don’t do that again. I have been awake for 28 hours and need my sleep thank you!

It took him an hour to sleep because he was seething. He could have pulled out her fingernails and burned her at the stake.

Finally he slept, then woke two hours later needing the loo; the couple were sleeping. Great! Revenge! He clambered over them, stamped on her right foot, pushed his arse up the man’s nose, waking them in the process. With a jaunt and spring in his step, he visited the loo, He who laughs last laughs loudest. he thought and chuckled.

When he returned, they were reading the papers. Normally Issum wouldn’t mind but she was reading The News of the World and the husband was looking at Readers’ Wives!

Two hours later, they were still at it; by this stage, Issum had six orange juices, three packets of sandwiches and got to know the stewardess. He needed a large brandy and orange to help him pass out. While the flight attendant was preparing it for him, he complained about his fellow passengers. She looked at him sympathetically and filled the glass with brandy. He downed it and returned.

The man had put his magazine away and was trying to sleep; the woman was still reading her paper. Issum asked him to swap places; they could sleep while she read the paper. The man complained that he had woken them two hours ago. Keeping calm, Issum apologised but explained he had needed the loo and since then they had kept him awake reading. Surely, there has to be a truce now, they have reached stalemate. he thought.

She stormed off, the man changed seats, the overhead lights switched off at last and they settled down. Issum was nodding off, when he heard her return and ask her husband for her seat. She advised the steward accompanying her that he should move Issum as they were disturbing him.

Issum seeing red blurted out, I’m not relinquishing my window seat and you should go.

The steward left, returned two minutes later and asked the couple to follow him. The man called Issum rude.

You are an arrogant old git.

Issum retorted and knew, he was her pet, the subservient old fool.

She complained, You have three seats to lie and fall asleep on.

Speak to the hand; your plan backfired.

Stretched out, sleep descended delightfully. He woke, drank six glasses of orange, three cups of coffee, ate breakfast and landed in Bangkok.

Unbelievable airport, the best one he had been in.

No pictures sir, stop.

Why not?

The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed becoming cold and black, Airport security.

Should I call his bluff? Do I want to be whisked off to Guantanamo Bay or tortured by extraordinary rendition, courtesy of the USA? The stakes are too high, he thought and replied with a smile, I’m sorry. then turned the camera off.

Departure lounge, seven sexy young female backpackers were available to be caught in his headlights. Issum wished he had bought aftershave and not packed his away. Sweaty armpit odour may be the dampener to a romantic liaison.

First in his row, a young slim, elegant person smelling attractively sat next to him. Shame it was a man from Bangkok!

Issum had a chat. The man was an accountant for ESSO and was auditing the books in the Ha Noi Head Office for three days. He was thirty but must have been a whiz kid. Issum wished he were a homosexual or bisexual, what a great conquest to have had. He could have blackmailed him and not worried about his pension.

Land. Welcome to the army state of Vietnam. Armed, unsmiling soldiers, one on every corner. Double take. Had he got on the wrong plane to Kabul? Got his visa, went through customs unchecked, savoured the moment, a man was displaying his name.

He refrained from shouting , That’s me! I’m a VIP!

Raining and cold, he had been misinformed, it was 21 degrees and sunny. Roads chocker with scooters and smells of sickly sweet odours from the drains wafted into his sensitive, Western nose, buildings varied from modern to slum dog millionaire, Egypt minus the donkeys and dogs!

In fact, there were no dogs, no strays.

My God, I have to watch my meat intake.

He was a dog lover and was relieved to see no cats. He wouldn’t mind buying a cat fur coat. He assumed there couldn’t be rats either. He expected them to be sunning themselves on the sides of the pavements and gutters, rat heaven! Suddenly, he realised they too may be an Asian delicacy!

Issum arrived at the hotel, door locked, woman in her 80’s opened the door, no English, only French, great start. She eventually realised who he was, showed him the basic, clean, furnished flat with a basic shower, great excuse not to wash.

She took his rent money and passport without explanation and didn’t give him a receipt. Treating her with what could be misplaced respect, he didn’t challenge her actions. He hoped he wouldn’t see anyone selling his passport on the street corner.

Issum left, changed $150.00 and became a millionaire instantly. Elated, Issum bought food, a new frying pan, electric kettle, iron and ironing board, shoe polish, toiletries and a new gas bottle; 900000 dong left out of two million eight hundred, gutted. He kept the receipt for nostalgia!

School contacted, after contract signing on Friday he would have to attend two lesson observations. He was looking forward to it, the teacher was an Australian woman and he fantasised about her. This entertained him until he slept.

The Result

It finally arrived, his heart was pounding like an Epsom Derby winner. The judgement of his actions, intellect, dedication for the last four years and the future consequences were contained in that small white envelope. He ripped it open, was he a phoenix or a barnyard chicken scraping in the dirt?

Deep breath, he ignored the niceties and cut straight to the chase, relief, tinged with disappointment, didn’t get a first but did get a 2:1.

At last, I’m a professional; it’s only taken me 40 years of my life. he chuckled, They say life begins at forty. I hope so because I have a lot of catching up to do.

His brain was racing, so much to do and so little time; He must send confirmation letter to IBIS. Issum was flying out in three weeks to UAE for his first teaching contract. He must marry girlfriend of one year or she wouldn’t get a visa. He needed to chase up his police report.

Mandy was asleep, another late night in the pub. Since he had lived with her, she was in the pub daily; it was her sitting room minus the T.V. He didn’t recognise the warning sign, love for you!

He woke her.

What’s up sweetie? I’m sleeping.

I got my results, I’m a teacher and got a 2:1.

He blabbered how he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t got a first and was cut short.

Well done sweetie, tell me later. I’m going back to sleep.

Fair enough, she was no spring chicken and needed her beauty sleep more than most; she looked fifty but was only six years older, which is what cigarettes, alcohol and late nights 5 days a week do.

He rushed to the careers office to use their free internet and scanner. Scanned the confirmation letter and e-mailed it to IBIS writing they should receive his police check by Monday. The careers woman was overjoyed for him.

Issum returned home, Mandy was still asleep. He made a cup of tea and sat in the living room, rolled a fag and watched daytime T.V. He turned it off and reminisced,It’s been a long haul. I’ve struggled to pay for a registry office wedding ceremony and Mandy’s wedding ring, which cost £11 from the local pawnbrokers. I must travel to London to get my letter verified by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. It’s tough on the social with no support or savings.

He couldn’t sit around and went into the bedroom with a tea for Mandy.

Thank you sweetie, I’ll be up soon.

I’m off to the dole to sign on and see if I can get my fare to London.

OK sweetie, I will see you in the Imp before bingo starts, good luck!

Armed with his paperwork, he strode off purposefully.

After signing on and showing the woman his paperwork verifying his statements, she said apathetically, Sorry we can’t provide the train fare unless it is for a job interview.

I have the job but unless I get this university letter verified, I will lose it.

It fell on deaf ears, he was speaking to a don’t care, won’t care, who cares government automaton. Honestly, who were these people; where did they get them from?

When he was a civil servant, working in the county courts, he used to advise the defendants and the plaintiffs. He felt empathy for them. John Major’s government statement they could see the green shoots of recovery was nonexistent. They were repossessing 250 homes and processing 60 bankruptcies per week, plus untold numbers of small claims.

In fact, he was hauled over the red carpet twice for helping defendants. He stood his ground; he was impartial and gave the same advice to plaintiffs and defendants.

Strange people in that office from management down. If he travelled in time to Hitler’s Germany, every person there, bar him, would have joined The Hitler Youth Movement.

He walked out frustrated by the injustices of the world. He realised, his prize possession, a £300.00 orange-faced Seiko watch was going to be pawned. Issum was gutted, he had had it for seven years and it had remained in his possession, despite two personal financial disasters but it was a small sacrifice to pay.

Watch pawned, £40.00, waited for his dole cheque, nothing eventful happened just drinking, smoking and playing pool. Mind numbing pond life all around, sucked him into the swamp of despair and tepid marsh of evolution. Mandy was drowning in it, she didn’t realise. He couldn’t wait to show her there was more to life.

Dole cheque arrived, he cashed it in.

At the train station, Return to London please.

£80.00 please, sir.

Double take; it was three quarters of his dole cheque.

That’s a ticket after 9 A.M. and not first class?

He looked at Issum, bored, labelled him as a Jack the Lad time waster, Yes sir.

Issum counted out four twenties and placed them on the counter, the stationmaster pressed a button and the bright orange tickets flew out of his machine.

London, Issum got on the underground and arrived at 10.30 A.M. The queue was two hundred meters long and that was before he entered the building. He panicked because the UAE Embassy shut at 1P.M. and he needed their confirmation stamp too.

The queue consisted of office juniors from the solicitors’ offices in the area; they were passing the time of day talking to various friends, lovers or other members of their profession on their mobiles. Occasionally their offices phoned them, to check they were queuing and hadn’t absconded to the local pub.

They were enjoying themselves out of the office; no paper filing, making cups of tea, or photocopying today, thank you and were paid a ludicrous amount of money.

Finally, he got to the main entrance and was interrogated by the door attendant who checked his confirmation letter.

I’m sorry sir; you need to get this verified by a solicitor.

Sorry, I don’t understand.

It needs a solicitors stamp.

I don’t know any solicitors in the area.

He froze, heart stopped, everything was in slow motion and he screamed internally, Why Me!

Luckily, the attendant saw his anguish, gave him a ticket, an address of a solicitor nearby and advised him, You have around 15 minutes before you’re called.

Issum could have kissed his feet; he thanked him, rushed out and sprinted to the solicitor’s office.

He asked the receptionist if someone was available to stamp his letter for the Foreign and Commonwealth Office.

Yes, can I have your passport please?

Certainly, I have ten minutes before I’m called.

Don’t worry sir. But she did nothing until she had verified his name, then phoned one of the solicitors. Take a seat sir, someone will be with you shortly.

The adrenaline was coursing full throttle through his body now. Shortly! I will give you shortly, if I miss my ticket call! he thought. He sat down, beads of sweat formed on his forehead; the solicitor appeared, chatted to the receptionist for what seemed an eternity before calling him over.

She checked, stamped, signed then dated everything and charged him £13.00 for five minutes work. He was fuming, daylight robbery in the legal profession.

He sprinted back, checked the overhead counter number 396, looked at his ticket 397 and praised God. He was about to collapse on a seat, when he was called. He handed over his letter, passport and money, was given a receipt and told to return in an hour. That would be 12.45A.M. He calculated it was achievable. He stayed because he had nowhere to go.

There was a blond, skinny girl in designer clothes, who had been three people in front of him in the queue. She fancied herself and had an awful whining voice. What was she whinging about to the clerk?

Ha, she had gone outside to take a private call and had missed her ticket call, no sympathy from anyone. In fact, he thought the clerk was enjoying imposing the rules. She was pleading and complaining; it was too late to rejoin the queue.

He imagined her returning and telling her boss she messed up, what an airhead. He enjoyed the show; it could have been him. She left in a huff. Issum looked at the clerk and winked; he misconstrued it, glared at Issum and went into the back office. Surely the clerk realised he wasn’t trying to pick him up.

They called him early; Bonus 12.30A.M. I should get to the UAE Embassy in time, he thought. He at 1 P.M. and rushed in to be redirected to the consular section in the next block. Adrenaline cruised through his veins; he flew round and hadn’t run so fast since his school inter-house track and field tournaments. He reached the top step of the entrance and the guard locked the door.

Issum knocked on the door, frantically waving his letter; the doorman looked at him unsmiling and pointed to the times on the door. Desperately Issum fell to his knees and placed his hands into a prayer sign, pleading. The doorman turned and walked off.

Not defeated, Issum returned to the Embassy before they too locked their doors and saw the receptionist.

Excuse me, I need to get a stamp from your consulate. Unfortunately IBIS misinformed me and advised me to get to the Embassy by one.

Where are you from?

Egypt but have travelled from North Wales.

Can you speak Arabic?

Yes. and recited the Muslims’ Lord’s Prayer.

That swung it, she phoned the Consul who agreed to let him in.

He ran back, the same guard unlocked the door. Issum had won. Graciously he said, Thank you.

The man ignored Issum, relocked the door and retreated into the Staff Only entrance.

Three female staff took his cash and letter and teased him for baksheesh. He laughed and joked, too embarrassed to admit he was unemployed and only had £2.06 to his name. He was trying to look the part.

There was a beautiful woman who sat in the waiting area with soft, smooth brown skin, jet black, straight hair, ample body with beautifully curved hips, dressed in a magnificent blue and grey power suit. Her skirt stopped over her knees showing off gorgeous, shapely calves covered in silky, sheer black tights or stockings.

Goddess, please let me drink from your fountain, he thought.

While he waited, he struck a conversation with her. She was from Birmingham, was his age and was travelling to the UAE to teach, having completed her masters. They chatted for half an hour until she was called to collect her papers.

She returned once she got them, said she was glad she met him and gave him her e-mail.

Issum hadn’t mentioned Mandy, but all he was doing was passing the time of day. He hid her e-mail in his wallet and thought, Could this be the start of an affair before I even get married?

Eventually he got his papers, thanked the staff and began the long and arduous journey to Rhyl.

He arrived exhausted, mentally shattered and hungry, Mandy wasn’t there, dropped everything and visited the Imp. She was, surrounded by the swampies of this world. With beer goggled eyes she smiled and said, All right sweetie, get everything done?

Issum looked on, in despair. I need to get her out of here, he thought.

Yes darling got money for a pint?

Whilst ordering, he fantasised about Lyla.

Luna

Twenty-four hours and jetlag hadn’t kicked in, Maybe having been a jet setter in the past I won’t get it. Priority for the day is to purchase a bike, he thought.

To most, cycling would be a daunting prospect; the roads were full of scooters, cars and cyclists travelling in every direction without road sense or discipline. To a Westerner this was Chaos Theory in practice; they stood on road and street edges, akin to frightened rabbits frozen in car headlights, wondering when it would be safe to cross.

It was nothing, the main traffic congestion consisted of scooters and having lived in Egypt where the problem was fast powerful cars, this reminded him of a kindergarten playground. From the beginning, he jumped out in front of the traffic, daring them to hit him or knock him over. They swerved out of his way and he hadn’t been clipped, great fun! Would it be different once he was on bike? One way to find out was to buy one.

The hotel was strange. It was a family home. It was shut and all the rooms and flats were occupied by the family members, which made it secure. He was the only adult who wasn’t a member of the family there.

The one rule was the main entrance was locked at 10 P.M. and it was similar to Fort Knox; no way in or out unless he had at least four sets of keys. This was because the grandmother, a sweet matriarch, locked up and retired.

Unbelievably it suited him and would keep him out of mischief over the coming months. He could avoid teacher parties or outings; he hated the incestuous, expatriate lifestyle people tended to create for themselves; gossiping and backbiting.

There were three generations of educated people living there, in various professions, ranging from dentists, doctors, college professors and bankers. He couldn’t have picked a better place to start his new life in Ha Noi.

He contacted a local girl he had been writing to for the last three weeks on Tagged. She seemed honest and he preferred to have her help him purchase a bike; it would be the largest single investment he would make until he got his first pay packet in January. He didn’t want to be ripped off.

She arranged to meet at Highland Coffee, overlooking Hoan Kiem lake. She asked how she would recognise him, not a good sign, maybe her profile picture was false. He suggested she checked his profile pictures. He would be wearing a pink sleeveless shirt, beige trousers and a cannon camera around his neck. He was probably the only alpha male in the area who would be comfortable wearing pink.

He left the apartment thirty minutes early, to arrive on time. Typically English, he must arrive on time or early for his date, though to him it was a business appointment. He reached the lake, walked round it, enjoying the view and took pictures.

A couple, who had got married, were having their wedding photos taken by a professional photographer. Her hair was tied in a bun with a large orange flower and a diamond tiara. She wore dangling diamond earrings. Her shoulderless dress was pale pink and from the waist was in four wavy and lacy layers. Her thin elegant neck sported a diamond necklace and bright white teeth glistened through her smile in the afternoon sun.

He too had bright white teeth and was smiling; they were holding a small basket of multicoloured and varied flowers together. He was dressed in white from top to toe, which included his shoes. The only other colour was a gold matador band around his waist. His trousers and shoes were of a plain design, yet his shirtfront and sleeves had lacy frills.

He took a picture, much to the amusement of the passers-by and wondered who looked more virginal. They were young and madly in love, he saw it in their eyes; cynically, he wondered how long their love would last.

He was five hundred yards from where he had started. Anxiety set in, he glanced at the watch 1.45 P.M., had he missed the café? How? He cursed his stupidity. Suddenly, with 100 yards to go, he spotted a billboard, third floor of the building he was beside.

Relieved, it was ironic; he completed a circuit of the lake looking for a café, which had he turned left instead of right, would have found immediately.

It was early, Luna hadn’t arrived yet. The waitress gave him the menu. He smiled, this woman wasn’t cheap, a coffee cost 53000 dong and a cake 40000 dong, wow; he could buy a whole chicken or one kilo of beef for that.

He didn’t mind if he acquired cheap transport. He ordered a Cappuccino; the waitress took the menu away.

Three groups of Western female backpackers drinking coffee, chatting or on their computers. He looked and made a mental note this may be a good hunting ground. He felt castrated, Luna would be arriving shortly and he was sure she would take exception if he was conversing with them.

He watched the women and played a mental game, who would be his fantasy lay and who would be his probable lay. Deciding it was the same woman, he thanked God he still had self-confidence. He studied her and wondered what his approach would be. Twenty minutes, Luna had still not arrived.

His fantasy girl visited the loo, stopped by the cake display and stared at the cheesecakes longingly. She returned, ignoring them; she was on a tight budget. The key; buy three different cakes, one for her, her friend and him, take them to their table, ask if he could join them, play the lonely, just flown in card and that was the ice broken. No could do, he must keep in check.

Twenty five past two, Issum left. He took a last look at his fantasy, 26-28 years old, five foot six, mousey blond hair, grey eyes, beautiful pert breasts covered with a green T-shirt and long legs set free by a tight fitting pair of blue denim shorts. The pair of walking boots and woolly socks seemed out of place. Guaranteed stinky feet, maybe she too had been misinformed about the weather.

He returned, disappointed; it had been a long time since he had been stood up. The only girl who had done it, travelled round South America with him; they were together for five years.

He left her when she wanted him to settle in a little village in Cork, and become a long distance lorry driver or work in the local cement factory. Her parents built them a house on their land; they were desperate for grandchildren, Katherine was an only child. He knew he couldn’t enter the cage and not be resentful. Therefore, they split amicably and she married an Egyptian doctor.

He hoped this wasn’t a similar omen, he didn’t intend becoming emotionally attached for at least two or three years.

He returned to the flat, signed into Tagged, no message. He contemplated how to reel her in.

"Dear Luna,

Went to Highland Coffee from 1.45P.M. till 2.20P.M. Then I gave up. Sorry I didn’t meet you. I was looking forward to getting you a coffee and a cake. You checked my profile. I hope it didn’t put you off.

I hope you will contact me again, to arrange another meeting. I’m online for an hour then will go to sleep, I’m exhausted from my long journey, it’s called jet lag in English.

Kindest regards and hope to see you soon"

Fifteen minutes later.

I’m sorry, I think u maybe call me if you come there but u didn’t. I was there at 2:30P.M., but u gone. I tell u, if you want meet me for coffee u should call me first. Buts its seem difficult for you to call me by phone, right? So when u want meet me, today for dinner or coffee you can call me.

Love to meet you tell me where and when.

NOPE I SAID U MUST ARRAGE AND CALL ME WHEN U COME. I DONT WANT TO COME ANYWHERE AND HOME FOR NOTHING ANYMORE.

Under normal circumstances, she would have been so dumped but he needed help to procure a bike.

Please don’t shout there is no need. You were late, I waited, you could have called and left me a message. I don’t have a phone yet so it is hard to phone you. I understand you are upset but you never said you may be late; I’m English and we are always on time. It’s your choice, tell me where to meet you, give me a time, I will wait half an hour before Ieaving.  

His message wasn’t answered for 30 minutes but he wasn’t backing down. A reply and things were on track again.

Don’t think I will be late cos I wait for your call, and because you didn’t call me and I’m not sure if you come or not. Tell me whats time exactly u want to meet me? And u know highland coffee at third flood of this building near Hoan Kiem lake, right? make sure this is place I tell u to meet.

Have no problem meeting you, it is twenty minutes away from my flat. Give me a time and I will meet you ok. 

She answered and suggested,

I think we can meet at 6P.M., cos I’m alil bit busy now. I will see you at 6P.M. ok.

"Ok see you. Have a good afternoon; I will wait until 6.30 P.M.. and go. I will check my e-mails on tagged here at 5.40P.M. to see if there is a change of plan ok? If you are running late because of the traffic phone the cafe and ask a member of staff to give me your message. I will