Burglary; Christmas; floods

Reasonably poor start to the New Year when I returned to my MK flat on 4 January to discover a scene of devastation in the ground floor bedroom. Trauma at discovering that pretty much all my electronic goods were missing was mitigated by the flood of relief at knowing that I’d backed up my data (on two removable hard drives and via Dropbox – am nothing if not anally retentive), and by the fact that my laptop and Galaxy Tab had escaped the thief’s clutches as I’d taken them away with me for the Christmas break. The mess in the bedroom was such that it was initially difficult to figure out what else had been taken, but it turned out later to be quite a lot of jewellery, plus a variety of miscellaneous items.

Discovered a card from Thames Valley Police on the doormat, noting that they had had to secure the property after a break-in (indeed one of the large panes of glass in the bedroom window had been boarded up – I didn’t notice initially) and urging me to get in touch with them. Duly did; spoke to PC Poulton of Milton Keynes’ CID and was half-surprised when he said he’d be with me within the hour. Not sure where I had got the idea that police don’t assign any urgency to attending burglary scenes, but I stand humbled. The young chap did indeed arrive (depressing realisation that all professionals are going to start increasingly seeming young from now on) and took a statement detailing my discovery of the scene and descriptions of the things that I was aware had been taken. (I think I had always assumed that victims were asked to compose their own statements in manner of a timed essay, but in fact the police write them for you – you just answer their questions.) He confirmed that – amazingly luckily for me, and I gathered relatively unusually – police had recovered most of my property following a tip-off, and it was in custody at MK police station.

A couple of forensic officers also turned up and proceeded to do a thorough evidence check of the bedroom and living area, which turns out to involve covering surfaces in a filthy black substance which is a devil to then get off. Also, I have now officially had my fingerprints taken – I think they assured me that they would be destroyed after the evidence gathering, but I wasn’t attending too much to that – trauma at being burgled alternating with excitement at being at an actual crime scene with real police. Ruth also arrived, having offloaded the rabbits through some sleight-of-hand and done a mercy dash up to MK, and as I decided I couldn’t face clearing up the bedroom, we booked a late room in the Jurys Inn and retreated there (v. nice, and room quite a bargain at £49). We also had a comfort dinner at Browns around the corner, which was entirely unnecessary. Returned to Old Groveway on the Sunday and Ruth insisted on tackling the bedroom by herself, which was noble as there was shattered glass everywhere.

Mention-worthy things NOT taken: the now-old laser printer I acquired on permanent loan from Ray’s dad – perhaps the thief anticipated difficulty in being able to download the drivers for it?; my bicycle, which was out on the patio and although the wheel was locked to the frame with a D-lock, the bike itself wasn’t actually secured to anything – it is, though, extremely heavy; the garnet cross handed down from a relative which is probably the most valuable piece of jewellery I own – a bit puzzling, this, as the thieves did take a number of obviously worthless pieces of jewellery including a collection of Girl Guide pins. Pointless things taken (though perhaps one shouldn’t ponder the logic): a small carrier bag full of postcards I have collected over the years, none of them of any monetary value; an old Motorola flip-up phone which I keep partly because I always thought it was cute and partly because it contains texts of sentimental value, and a business card holder engraved with my name (ghastly present from a training provider I worked with in my last job). The theft of the Mesh desktop PC Ray and I bought together in 2005 was also fairly pointless, though admittedly the thief probably didn’t realise its age, increasingly slow functioning and possibly failing hard drive. The thief (or thieves) also took my new DVD of The Hobbit, which I was a bit upset about as I’d only watched it once.

Ruth and I presented ourselves at Milton Keynes police station the following Monday for what turned out to be a three hour session of identifying and describing my stolen property. We were taken down to the basement property store where I identified the larger items, and then retreated to an interview room where I was shown all the smaller items in turn, in their evidence bags, which semi-obscured them, and in some cases asked to give more detailed descriptions. The session did reveal the absence of my platinum wedding band from the little wooden box I had been keeping it in since Ray and I separated – but as it’s the only thing so far that I am aware has not been recovered, I should no doubt consider myself lucky. On a lighter note: my attempts to describe a few of the postcards in the collection mentioned above had Ruth scoffing afterwards at my struggle to avoid mentioning that the collection contained a number of nudes, and instead focusing on trying to describe Constantin Brancusi’s Fish and John Everett Millais’ Autumn Leaves. Not sure whether my offer to spell ‘Millais’ constituted Plebgate-esque assumptions vis à vis the police, but the DS did appear to appreciate help with spelling it.

As a result of the burglary, I requested early release from my tenancy at Old Groveway and, to cut a bit of a story short, managed to check out of the property and hand back the keys on 24 January. The bulk of my stuff was shifted thanks to Bruce of Bruce Wilkinson Despatch, who was charmingly helpful and efficient, though could do with being a little less tactile if he wants his business to take off and beat the competition from cheap Polish drivers, which he told us about at some length. Was quite sad to say goodbye to Christina at no 12 Old Groveway, aka Stray Cat Lady, and Tony and Susannah at no 11, as they were all unfailingly friendly and pleasant during the time I was there.

Made (hopefully) my final visit to MK police station on 31 January, to give something called an ‘emotional impact’ statement and also, more importantly in my view, collect my property from the police property store. PC Poulton helpfully retrieved it from the basement – reappeared panting under the weight of a laden trolley; possibly I had more stuff recovered than is usually the case – and nobly pushed the trolley out to my car and helped me load up.

Did submit a claim on my contents insurance – my first, I think – for the value of my wedding ring plus the cost of some underwear and bedlinen that had broken glass trodden into it, and for my DVD player, which is working but is making a grinding noise it wasn’t making before. The Mesh, perversely, is still working, or at least, working as well as it was prior to the theft – am frankly impressed that it appears to have survived not only being stolen but also languishing in a police station basement for a month. Here it is in its evidence bag (right). Given that my data is safe, this was almost disappointing as it would have been a tempting opportunity to claim the cost of a new PC. I suppose I could have done that anyway, if I were the type of person to commit insurance fraud which, obviously, I’m not.

Indecision over what to do as regards accommodation has resulted in my currently being resident Monday to Thursday in Travelodges in and around Milton Keynes. Am not keen to take out another tenancy because of the expense and the requirement to commit to at least six months. Briefly considered taking a room in someone’s house, though I hate the idea, and did actually go and view a room in a new-build detached house in Greensand View in Woburn Sands. The landlady Sally seemed lovely, and we had quite an amiable chat over a cup of tea, but on reflection afterwards decided that I couldn’t face living in someone else’s house on an open-ended basis – possibly too old and have had my own place for too long. Also she has a dog and dogs, generally, smell, whatever dog owners may claim to the contrary.

Back to Travelodges. Travelodges are fine – indeed, Ray and I once took a week’s road trip around England in the early 1990s based entirely on staying at them, though it has to be said we were fairly young at the time. Think we started off at Scotch Corner, from memory, and worked our way back down south – forget all of them, but certainly took in Chesterfield and finished up with Wheatley. For whatever reason, it was a trip that I omitted to take any photographs of, so it exists only in my memory now, but it was nice.

Refurbed room at MK Central

Travelodge Shenley Church End

As there are various Travelodges in the vicinity of MK, have been alternating between three of them so far according to which has the cheapest rooms. This week am at the Travelodge Buckingham, an OK establishment next to a Shell garage on the A421, with a 24-hour Tesco opposite. Last week was at the Travelodge MK Central, which is in the process of undergoing a refurb and I lucked out with one of their redecorated rooms, featuring a snazzy new bed, luxury after the series of fairly saggy mattresses I’ve put up with over the last few weeks. Spent the week prior at the Travelodge MK Shenley Church End, a tired-looking former Innkeepers Lodge that’s in need of a refurb and updating to Travelodge branding, but does have the friendliest staff of the three.

A few non-burglary related highlights of the last couple of months:

Two unsuccessful job interviews, one for a job at the University of the Arts London, which I didn't particularly want anyway, and one for a job at the University of Surrey, which I did. But hey, I'm not bitter. And I did get to take a particularly windblown almost-selfie outside Guildford Cathedral, which I donated a pound to as it's apparently in need of asbestos removing from its roof.

Christmas, obviously. Ruth and I had a pre-Christmas trip to London on 22 December, to look at festive things. Surprisingly, started with lunch at Pizza Hut on Oxford Street; I hadn’t eaten in Pizza Hut for years, though they were a standard meal out destination when I was with my boyfriend Andy in the early 1990s and in the early days with Ray. Not sure Ruth had ever eaten in one, as she is highbrow about such places, but she was actually quite complimentary about the pizza. Their salad bars are still as indifferent as I remember them. Took in various shops’ Christmas displays, including Heal’s (naturally civilised) and Fortnum and Mason – the latter was a bloody bunfight, though Ruth managed to take a number of photos of posh wreaths. I think we refrained from buying anything, though I've blanked out a good bit of it. Stoked up briefly pre-Fortnums with tea at Richoux, a few doors down Piccadilly. After escaping from Fortnums only slightly battered, we walked back to Oxford Street and caught a bus back to Paddington.

Spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at Ruth’s aunt’s house in Lambourn. Although she’d kept everyone guessing until Christmas Eve, Ruth’s mother also turned up, bringing her dog Muffin. For some reason – perhaps a kind desire to keep me amused – Mrs Spence tasked me with sorting out her magazine rack, so I spent a while sorting back issues of The Field, Wiltshire Life and The People’s Friend. On Christmas morning we took Muffin out for a walk, before returning to the house to help prepare veg. Lunch was a splendid joint of beef - first time I’ve had beef for Christmas lunch, but as I’ve never been able to get excited about turkey, it was a very welcome change. This photo of Ruth’s aunt carving shows off its divinely still-pink interior. We spent the afternoon/early evening watching Call the Midwife followed by Downton Abbey – I think I dozed off during the latter, but don’t think I was the only one, despite the excitement of the whole Maggie Smith/Shirley MacLaine set-to. Certainly Ruth’s mum appeared to doze through most of it, with Muffin sitting bolt upright on her lap in some sort of bizarre small guard dog scenario.

On Boxing Day we drove down to Abergavenny to see my parents, Dave, Hazel and Nia, and went for a stroll around Linda Vista Gardens before returning to the house to open more presents, via a drink at the Hen & Chickens. Even though Dave kindly worked out how to set up the timer on my camera so that we could all be in the photo, the photo without me in it was much better.

Finally, for now, flooding. The Thames has reached higher levels this January than I’ve ever seen it before, flooding Christchurch Meadows right up to Gosbrook Road. None of the area in the picture is usually under water, though boats on the Thames are visible in the far distance. Claire's birthday drinks at the Jolly Anglers on 8 February were enlivened by the Kennet rising quite a bit during the course of the evening and the landlord having a supply of sandbags brought into the pub. Luckily it didn't rise as much as feared and we weren't forced to spend the night. The B478 Playhatch Road at Sonning Eye has been closed on and off for weeks now due to floods washing away part of the road, resulting in the closure of Sonning Bridge, an eighteenth-century brick arch bridge that forms a single-carriageway Thames crossing that’s an important cut-through for motorists wishing to cross the river. Apparently the poor old bridge carries 16,000 cars a day. There have been mutterings for years about a possible alternative Thames crossing between Reading and Henley (currently Sonning is the only one) but nothing has come of it as yet. I would feel sorry for the residents of Sonning, if they weren’t so rich.

TBC ....