I become a laughing stock
I say attempted as there was no sign of forced entry so I'm guessing I must have left the door unlocked when I got back from my walk along the Trent and Mersey canal through Middlewich yesterday afternoon. There did not appear to be anything missing. The fact that the door was actually open suggests an opportunist who was probably in and out in a few seconds or surprised in the act by a passer-by. Ironically, as I left earlier I'd noticed the van owned by the maintenance company my housing association uses parked next door, unattended, with its sliding side door wide open, a range of power tools within easy reach. It was still there on my return. Modern thieves are as thick as shit.
I have been the victim of burglary, of both vehicle and domestic kinds, before. It's not a pleasant feeling, especially when nothing's been nicked and all you've suffered is wanton vandalism. My previous car was broken into twice and both times a window was smashed causing me to lose some NCD even though nothing was actually taken. It's the buggeration factor of having to get repairs done and make a claim that annoys me more than anything. At least this time I don't need to make a claim.
The only feeling I've got this time is one of mild embarrassment and I hope the little felon is nobody known to me otherwise he might point and laugh. My car is eleven years old and I've had it all bar 5000 miles of its life. It's part of me near enough and it's almost my own personal museum. I lived in it for several days once, it's home. There were bits of old personal ephemera and effects hauled unceremoniously out of the glove box and spread onto the seat: old bits of printout with maps on; the manual and handbook; my old spare clip-on tie I wore as part of my uniform; some directions with a little billet-doux sign-off my ex-wife sent to me to get to the holiday home she and the kids were already at - our last holiday as a family unit and the one during which I decided to leave; a pair of surgical shears I bought at a boot market and which I use for fishing; a pad of now useless concessionary disabled driver tickets I used to give out as an employee of the world's most popular tolled river crossing (what were rather disingenuously called "cripple tickets". Weren't they, Andy); a pair of pliers and a tyre pressure tester (I haven't checked to see if my torch is missing - I have "a thing" about torches, I don't know why. The provision of artificial light to a small area giving a sense of immediate security and comfort perhaps? Anyway, I'll always accept and appreciate a torch as a gift). The ashtray had been removed, presumably to look for the stash of hobby medicinals I do not use or the emergency tenner I can't afford.
What was most embarrassing though was that he would have seen I still have the factory-fitted entertainment system. It's not even a CD player, let alone a Bluetooth enabled iPod friendly radio, it's a radio-cassette player. With "Rover" on and the same cassette that's been in it for about 7 years (Rory Gallagher, Live in Europe if you must). He probably picked up a cassette and wondered what on earth it was. At least he I didn't take the Postman Pat one that's been in the car since my children were infants and which I can't bear to throw away. No taste.