Some drama
I went to London for the Easter weekend to meet mam. It was nice: I went to a Bach marathon, some museums, art galleries, artisan coffee shops, a nice restaurant and generally took it fairly easy. But when I came back to Southampton this afternoon, I found that my room had been broken into! Nothing was taken (just a couple of euro notes), largely because I have nothing worth taking. So I felt rather "haha, joke's on you, thief!" The one thing that would've been worth taking is my guitar, which is worth far more than everything else I own combined, but I don't know if your average burglar can tell one classical guitar from another, so it's even still in tune.
I called the cops, that seeming to be the right thing to do, who were very nice altogether. First two came around to verify my story and get a statement; when they confirmed that I had suffered a break-in they called a crime-scene-investigation-type person. I had had a bit of a chat with the lady in charge by the time this next lady arrived, so the latter was greeted with "Hi Lea, how are you, this is James, he comes from Ireland and Scotland where apparently they don't need to close their windows when they leave home." (For I had indeed left my outside window ajar, for the fresh air, and that was how the burglar got in.)
The one thing that I thought might've been obviously worth nicking was my passport. I put this to the policewoman taking my statement, and she speculated that because Ireland is a smaller country, and there aren't, y'know, as many people there, that maybe someone would notice, if, you... know what I mean? Which was just so adorable. As if Ireland is one big small village - and if someone appears to border control with my name and someone else's face, there's a real chance the guard'll say, But sure you're not James at all, I knew James for many a year and sure that's not his face at all here! What do you think you're tryin' te pull?
Well anyway, the window's going to be closed fully in the future, and I'm going to count my blessings yet again, for I learned this lesson the easy way. Cities are dangerous you know.
I called the cops, that seeming to be the right thing to do, who were very nice altogether. First two came around to verify my story and get a statement; when they confirmed that I had suffered a break-in they called a crime-scene-investigation-type person. I had had a bit of a chat with the lady in charge by the time this next lady arrived, so the latter was greeted with "Hi Lea, how are you, this is James, he comes from Ireland and Scotland where apparently they don't need to close their windows when they leave home." (For I had indeed left my outside window ajar, for the fresh air, and that was how the burglar got in.)
The one thing that I thought might've been obviously worth nicking was my passport. I put this to the policewoman taking my statement, and she speculated that because Ireland is a smaller country, and there aren't, y'know, as many people there, that maybe someone would notice, if, you... know what I mean? Which was just so adorable. As if Ireland is one big small village - and if someone appears to border control with my name and someone else's face, there's a real chance the guard'll say, But sure you're not James at all, I knew James for many a year and sure that's not his face at all here! What do you think you're tryin' te pull?
Well anyway, the window's going to be closed fully in the future, and I'm going to count my blessings yet again, for I learned this lesson the easy way. Cities are dangerous you know.