Robbed!

The dog in 'attack' mode

On the 17^th January the dog and I were upstairs in my little telly room watching  a quite gripping Question Time featuring Diane Abbott and Isabel Oakeshott.  Things were getting quite heated when the dog started one of his barking sessions.  These are always supremely irritating as they drown out the telly and are only triggered because of someone putting their bin out or having the nerve to speak in the street.  Eventually, the barking wouldn’t stop and the small, ginger ball of fury was jumping up and down on the landing so I said, ‘Come on then, let’s go and check it’s no-one at the door.’  And downstairs I went with my ‘protector’ barking fiercely behind me.

I couldn’t believe my eyes as, through the front window, I saw someone driving off in my car!  What was worse, they laughed when they saw my shocked face.  I was furious!

Briefly, they’d climbed in the window, in full view of the street, and when they heard the dog, just had time to grab my laptop and keys and jump out the way they came in.

The very window, on the left.
The reference books were hurled everywhere.

The police were brilliant.  They came really quickly, were lovely and kind and even found the baby seat which had been thrown out down the road.  However, a robbery, even fairly minor, unleashes an endless stream of actions involving police statements, locksmith, insurance companies, banks, car hire and I eventually even had to pay for a dog trainer to try to rehabilitate the nervous wreck that my already disturbed rescue dog had become.   Every day after the event I would spend hours on the phone, surrounded by bits of paper with scribbled reference numbers, passwords, phone numbers, car details, details of the crash it was subsequently in, and the crime number.  People valued my call, played me music or referred me to the number I should have been ringing which was the one I’d rung in the first place. 

Just a few of my documents

The car insurance involved three different companies – one that was the broker, one that insured me and one that paid out.  The house insurance wasn’t worth claiming in the end as my reconditioned laptop had only cost £100 and, mysteriously, I never received the £250 bill for the  cheerful locksmith who turned up at three in the morning.

In the end, the financial loss was painful but not crippling.  I didn’t have the emotional trauma about feeling violated as I’ve always had a house full of all sorts of people.   My friends and neighbours were so kind and sympathetic, giving me chocolates and more advice than I really wanted on security.  The dog seems to be recovering a bit although the incident has certainly enhanced his vicious streak.  Also I don’t bear a grudge as, having spent thirty years as an inner city teacher, I’ve known many damaged young people for whom I’m afraid nicking a six year old VW Polo will keep them pretty low in the criminal pecking order.

I've now got a portable disk

The really sad thing for me was losing the contents of my laptop.  I really thought it was backed up, twice actually, but it turns out that this wasn’t the case due to my complete incompetence in all things scientific.  Holiday photos, bird photos and pictures of my grandchildren, records of stuff I’d planted in the garden, copies of letters I’ve sent, notes on things I’d researched, loads of recipes and so many bits and pieces that I’ve written are all gone.  It even set me back on my blog.  Not a day goes by without my suddenly wanting to look for something that doesn’t exist any longer.

As for passwords – what a nightmare!  I’ve changed thirty-four of them so far, starting at the top with bank accounts and getting round to my Nectar Card yesterday.  Just the customer satisfaction surveys to fill in now.