Yesterday morning I discovered that I had left the Love Bus unlocked for 19 hours with my handbag on the front seat. I think my wallet poking out the top of the bag was visible from outer space and yet, the bag remained there on the seat all night, untouched. Take that “Friendliest Street in Blahblahshire!”, I thought.
Of course it isn’t always that way round these parts. Earlier in the year we skipped off to an Australia Day BBQ at the home of a newly-Aussiefied MM and his chronically Australian wife KC and came home to find somebody had skipped off with all our worldly possessions. And by somebody, I mean “stupid junkies” did it – or rather, those were my words at the time. Although they weren’t exactly stupid because they were mindful enough to find and take all the chargers for the equipment they took, all without leaving a a single fingerprint. Stupid smart junkies. Interestingly enough, the backpack they also stole to stash their booty had a copy of Spinoza’s “Ethics” tucked away in one of the zippered compartments. And since it is *entirely likely* that they would have since taken time to read it, they’re probably feeling really bad about what they did to us. Really really bad.
In any case, we got off reasonably lightly. Some other friends in our area got done over in a much more insidious way – they were robbed during the night while they were actually sleeping in the house. RR got up at one point to attend to one of their sons and came back to shake his wife M awake with the words “What have you done with our television?”. Which is kind of worrying as RR is a Man in Uniform. You’d think with all the years of training he’d had, he might not have slept through a robbery in his own house. Or that he might have been able to recognise a crime scene when he saw one (albeit through the blurred eyes of someone with perpetually-broken sleep). And perhaps he’d hopefully not have gone on to accuse an innocent person without sufficient evidence. Hmmm. Some more cynical types might say that pretty much describes many Men in Uniform all the world over… But listen up, cynics: RR is truly a Good Man (in uniform or not), and I like to think that, had he not been tucked up in beddy-bye-byes with his jimmy-jams on, he would have come over all Jason Bourne and totally shown those thieves. Totally. Although his wife M says she’s glad he didn’t, what with the small sleeping children near by and all – and I have to admit she’s totally right. Anyhoo, the worst thing about all this is that poor RR and M got done over again three days later in broad daylight, and then a few days after that, had their car window smashed and broken into. Which truly sucked.
But the thing that really sucks about these robberies is not the expensive equipment that was stolen or the property that was damaged – those things can (after a lot of paperwork) be replaced or fixed (in our case, gaffer tape did the trick on the window). It’s the irreplaceable stuff such as the photos on the memory stick or the emails on the computer or the tape in the video camera that gets me. None of which has any value to the thieves whatsoever but are all priceless to their owners. I no longer have any video footage of my precious Tiddles McGee as a baby thanks to our Australia Day visitors. RR and M lost all the baby photos of both their boys and M’s grandmother’s engagement ring. And, arguably, my husband might have benefited from reading Spinoza’s “Ethics” in its entirety (see “In Camera Hearing” for evidence of this). But thankfully, in a “Family Ties” group hug kind of way, we all still have each other (cue: awwwwwwwww!) and from where I’m sitting in my middle class tower, it seems the people who have wronged us are in a far darker place than I care to imagine or want to go myself.
You know, one of the many reasons I’m in a luckier place is that my drugs of choice are cheap fizz and Beroccas and they’re both widely available for a handful of change over the counter. However, I hasten to add that I never mix them – that would be Totally Irresponsible. Although, now that I think about it, the über-fizz the two could potentially create together could give me quite the Big Buzz… But then, the vast consumption of this heady cocktail might prove to be my ultimate undoing, sending me spiraling down, down, down to a life of petty crime, bad teeth and bad fashion sense (though it must be said I’ve got the teeth and the fashion sense already covered). And, now I *really* think about it, I’d be thin. Thin, I tells ya! Quick! Someone! Anyone! Bring me a glass!