RUBBISH DAY

Grey Monday morning, it's raining and there is a tube strike.    I get a call.   My home in France has been burgled.   They've taken all the electrical stuff and wrecked some of the other stuff.  It's a mess.  The local gendarmes think it's an inside job so I am going down to see what has been taken and hopefully nothing sentimental, irreplaceable I will cry if I've found it's gone stuff. Having a lovely home in another country is wonderful and despite the expense of this place it's been somewhere to escape to each year from the traffic wardens and same old same old of my home here.    OK, every time I've gone down there, there's been another bill to pay, someone else wanting money and another thing I've absolutely must, got to have, immediately get fixed that costs ten times more than it should.   So the burglary is hassle.  And the fact it's an inside job is a hassle - the person had a key?  Someone I trusted.    So who did it?