Expat LifePhnom Penh

Fiddler On The Roof

After a hedonistic start to last weekend I was left feeling a trifle jaded and retired to my quarters to sleep off the results of a reckless Friday night in Phnom Penh.

Saturday became Sunday but it mattered not for my pantry was well stocked with all the necessary provisions; gallons of 7-Up, lashings of Haagen Daz, a small tray of Quality Street chocolates consisting only of the gooey purple wrappered ones and best of all my late Grandfather’s bequest; his entire collection of ‘Uncle Joe’s Mintballs’ which like him, had survived the Burma Campaign unscathed apart from a couple of scratches.

With such a trove of sacharine snacks it was hardly any wonder that I totally failed to notice the clump, clump, clump of furniture being shifted around in the penthouse flat above my head. Nor was I aware of the fact that its tenant, a Mr Weiner, had decamped to the provinces for the weekend.

It wasn’t until this morning when I received an urgent telegram from my landlady that I realised that there had been a little local difficulty upstairs. Madame was in a state of shock. Her normally inscrutable Sino-Khmer poise was askew. It transpired that the Weiner apartment had been ‘cleaned out’ and not only had the entire Weiner collection vanished into the Phnom Penh night but so had many of Madame’s portable fixtures and fittings.

How could this have happened? We do after all live in a gated BKK1 compound. A guard sleeps in the courtyard.

It transpired that Weiner had become complacent and had left his door unlocked. But how had the thieves gained entry to the compound and how had they escaped with such a collection of swag? And why had they not taken my unlocked motorbike with them as they made their getaway?

This is hardly what Sherlock Holmes would have referred to as a ‘two pipe problem.’

Madame spent today supervising artisans as they fitted new gatelocks but I just wonder whether the thieves came in and left by an entirely different route.

Over the rooftops perhaps?

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