I came downstairs at about six thirty, opened the living room door and saw the light from the open fridge in the kitchen, also a blast of fresh air. I turned on the light in the living room and looked at my laptop, or rather where it should have been. Now there was a carving knife lying on the table where the computer should have been. And that was it, my black handled carving knife in solitary splendour. I did that thing where I made a search for the computer, cleared the table of papers in one sweep of my hand, tried to remember if I had left it in the car the night before, but I knew I hadn’t. I heard myself weeping, cursing, chuntering dreadful sounds of grief and despair. The bag I carry it in was gone too and all the wires and plugs to the internet. The dog came down from my bed and gave the room the onceover, made a growl or two and retired to the front room sofa, she is not an early morning creature, not a guard dog either apparently. I think I was banging my head on the furniture by then and no dog likes to see her owner making an idiot of herself so I didn’t blame her.
The kitchen windows were both open so that’s the way he got in and as the overhead light doesn’t work he must have used the fridge for light. He had also left a milk container on the side. Empty. The drawers, with my passport, some money and other valuable documents were untouched.
I telephoned the police, they said they would come within an hour and I grieved over my folly - I had ten years work on that lap top. An entire novel, reams of poems, two or three plays and a collection of short stories plus my journal, very little of it backed up. Besides which my memory stick is in the carrying bag. Clever eh? I spend a few moments telling myself what an idiot I am and by now it is light and I phone a mate to print me some posters to put out locally. He promises to bring them on his way to work.
The police arrive and they agree that I am an idiot and also with my own assumption that the thief is a crack addict who will flog my laptop for twenty quid as soon as possible. The empty milk bottle is a dead giveaway, crack addicts are compulsive milk drinkers apparently, you learn something every day don’t you?
My friend brings the posters and I leave the police to it and I hit the street with my dog. It is nearly eight by now and a guy I kind of know is making his way to the offy and I mention my laptop and he assures me he can get me one in a day. It takes me a while to convince him that I want my own one back and I hear that a guy was round at their house at four am. Offering one cheap. Great. I know that if it leaves the area I will definitely never see it again. I am looking for sites for my posters when I think of going to see a guy who runs a kind of open house. I knock on the door and am telling him my tale of woe when a woman I know from my voluntary work with working women giving out condoms greets me ‘Hello darling you’re up early!’ I tell her my problem and she says she was also offered my laptop and will chase the guy up. ‘I’ll get it back for you darling!’ she says, for a price. I go back to the house. To wait.
The police are jolly and friendly; they are led by a dynamic young woman who appears to have total control over the team. They tell me that the chances of getting my property back are a million to one, as are the chances of catching the thief. They shake their heads at my folly in not having locks on my windows and seem like nice men, though they are scornful of my poster idea. The lady cop is far more sympathetic to my loss of material but also holds out no hope of catching the thief and even less of getting my property back. I don’t mention the deal with the girl.
The next few hours are a torment, I finish up at the front window twitching the curtain and myself. Finally the girl comes back and takes me to the crack house that I have walked by every day with no idea of its purpose. I see my computer in its bag and can’t contain my joy! I kiss the man who runs the joint, he looks amazed and appalled, I kiss the girl who kisses me back, I give her the price we had agreed on and I scuttle home a delighted woman.
I telephone the police and tell them my computer has come back via a man I didn’t know and they come round to take it away for fingerprinting but the wonderful young policewoman says they can’t possibly take it away from me again so they come and dust it in my house, they bust the modem but who cares!
I got free locks on all my downstairs windows and a chain for my front door through an excellent scheme that offers this service to any victims of thievery, after the event of course! Some local young guys offered to kneecap the thief for me, I declined and I didn’t want to know who he was either, I probably know his mum and would just feel betrayed and feel I had to tell the police. So there are benefits to living in the same area for thirty years . I always suspected that it’s not what you know but who you know and this tends to prove me right, it is also a vindication of voluntary work.
I was nervous for a few days and cleaved unto the dog, poor creature, I worried unduly but I was soon back to my usual careless ways. I do back up my work now, mostly. This, I feel, was a lesson in back up discipline. Now where IS that memory stick??
Mo
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