Thursday, January 13, 2011
New years thieves
As I stood by the grave of 2010 there was a brief but wholly welcome relief that it was coming to its end. It was a year which brought me some happiness; however these brief and ephemeral moments were insurmountably eclipsed by crushing grief and sadness. Like most, I treated the end of a year and the dawn of the next with the usual dignitaries by raising a glass or two. New years isn’t a time of year which I’m particularly crazy about, but in the spirit of things I ignored my better judgement and like some kind of fool I attempted to make the most of it.
Time, as it has a tendency to, passed. Jubilations ended and it was time for me to go home. I was tired and I knew that sleep would be welcome. Fate, it seemed, had other plans. On my return home I was surprised to find that my front door wouldn’t open. I’d had a drink so thought it best to try again, but still nothing. It felt as though he door had been locked internally and suddenly I was overcome with a wash of exhilaration! Perhaps last year hadn’t happened at all, it’d all been a long horribly vivid dream? My girlfriend hadn’t left me and we were still together and she’s gone to bed locking me out accidentally…!? But, with the miasma of fried chicken hanging in the air and the sound of idiots chorusing in the streets my daydream ended and as my senses returned I realised that I was probably in the process of being burgled.
So bravely, and without any regard for my safety I sped to the rear of my house somehow managing not to break my neck on the wall and sure enough I saw the damage to the back window. What struck me, other than how bloody brave I was, was the craftsmanship, that they hadn’t smashed the window as much as fully remove it from the frame. And there, my double glazed window stood, fully intact, propped up and looking displaced and disorientated. On the plus, I am getting my window replaced through my insurance and it’s only going to take one full calendar month.
On entering the house I realised that whoever had been in had long gone and left little by way of trace. I had heard tales of thieves defecating on their victims beds so; perhaps bizarrely, this was the first thing I checked for.
No joy. No DNA.
Upon initial inspection I gathered that the bedside table, which had previously held my ex-girlfriend’s underpants, had been rifled through and the case from my iphone lay open on my bed. The guest bedroom had been entered too, though only a bag containing scarves appeared to be open. The offender profile was beginning to look confusing, confusing and sexy.
I returned downstairs and was unsurprised to find that my laptop and Xbox had been taken along with whatever games and DVDs were on the table, the sight of my ultra-violent computer games must’ve been any deterrent whatsoever. Politely they left Dexter season 3 (clearly this was either too high brow or they hadn’t managed to get through 1 & 2 yet and didn’t want to spoil the Bay Harbour Butcher story). I also noticed that the ‘interactive headset’ for my Xbox had been left also. It appears even my burglars have their thresholds about what they’d be caught dead with.
The Police were good. There in well under an hour and taking the piss out of me with five minutes. One of them was in a bad mood, and man he did not want a hug…!
Weirdly that appears to be all that was taken which, as an indicator my worth is more depressing than the burglary itself. If I’d have burgled me I’d have taken my passport at least, it was on the coffee table but was of no interest. Its an irish passport so I can only assume that not only are my burglars heartless they’re also a bit prejudice - I bet if it was British they’d have been all over it. There’s my ‘flat’ screen television which despite being thinner than your standard CRT unit is probably as heavy. They could have had that? And what about dining table and chairs I’ve been trying to get rid of for the past 2 years? My limited edition Radiohead poster? My 1000+ CD collection? My guitars? You come into my house, put on my scarves and underwear and don’t even have the good manners to burgle me properly; you really are the lowest of the low…
People keep telling me that the worst thing about being the victim of a burglary is that you feel that you’ve been violated, perhaps my poor house may feel as though it’s been prison raped, but personally I would contest this. The inconvenience is the worst part; they’ve not just taken my stuff so much as taken my time. Mot to mention the rigmarole of having to put all of my music back onto iTunes, re-syncing my phone and unlocking my Xbox achievements all over again – the Police did not empathise with this. I’ve just remembered my Xbox gamer points, are they safe? My God it’s worse than I imagined.
Posted by tiernan at 7:25 AM