When I remember Uncle Neil, he lived in Woodbridge and was a carpenter.  He was a man of few words.  The strangest thing was his weekend visits to his parents house in Port Reading.  He would come and sit on the front porch and start smoking.  He never went inside, he never rang the bell or let anyone know he was there.  He just sat and smoked for hours.  Many times someone would realize he was there and come out but other times he just came and left without interacting with anyone.  It was that strange.