The amazing return of Henry...

Aha! The daily tedium of life on the Med is broken this morning by the arrival of a taxi next door, the contents of which...turns out to be long-lost Henry. He is not, as I suspected, buried under the gravel in the driveway but alive and well. Alive and a curious shade of white. Fido is barking and barking, jumping up and down on the frightened taxi driver. The invisible wife does not come outdoors. Is she expecting him? Is she stuffing bin liners with evidence? Where is her usual morning visitor and his bike?
I reckon the shouting will start around six this evening. I'll keep you posted.

Invisible communication

So, I am in full cycling gear which means that nobody recognises me behind glasses, under helmet, and wrapped up in lycra. And, I am stopping off at the outdoor terrace cafe, and the invisible wife is in her usual seat where she can pick up wi fi on her laptop. She has been in this seat every morning for six months now, for hours and hours. I don't pass by this way often but my spies do. This is the first time I have seen her out and about in town.
She no longer sleeps next door and arrives back early morning, and this I know because one of the spies is having his first smoke of the day on the porch at this time.
She must be getting a bit bored? Where's Henry?