Page 3
Model Citizen
I have been burgled three times in my life. Once was at my childhood family home, where all the Christmas presents that my parents had bought for us were stolen. Once when I was at a friend’s house whilst they were out and someone put a brick through the front window, probably because the car was gone from outside. And the following episode, which I choose to share with you in full, as it’s the one that comes with a hefty side order of confusion… some of which has lingered around the event, and refuses to budge.
Listen to me struggle, dear reader, to put all the pieces of this puzzle together.
Around 2008, I’d just moved from a high rise flat in The Elephant and Castle to a tiny bedsit in Camberwell. This was not a choice. Southwark Council decided that the entire estate I lived on was going to be levelled.
(The Heygate estate, where I lived, was a popular filming location because of it its ‘Brutalist Architecture’. Harry Brown, Gangster No,1, World War Z and most of The Bill, which was a shitty soap opera about a police station, were shot there )
Click here to see the rough as fuck old neighbourhood
I couldn’t moan really. I’d lost an amazing view above the rooftops of London and a lot of floor space, but the few square feet I found myself in were fine… although I was informed that the former inhabitant had died in there.
No matter. I squeezed all my belongings in, threw a mattress on the uncarpeted floor, did a few running repairs, and learned to live in the small life.
One night, a short while into my tenancy, I’d settled down into the aforementioned temporary sleeping area. I often kept one of the windows ajar as I was still attempting to rid the place of the whole dead person vibe. But, at this point I will mention that the through breeze did make it slightly chilly and I was wearing my pyjamas – something that I thank myself for with hindsight.
I took my usual cocktail of meds and was all bound for morning town.
I have no idea how long I’d been sleeping; but even though closed eyes I could see the light in the room changing from bright to dark, then again, bright, dark, bright, dark. Firstly, I thought “Well, that’s annoying” and resolved to try and get my wits about me and go and find out what the problem was. I supposed it must be a faulty something or other.
Once on my feet, I was confronted by a woman who still had her hand on the light switch. learned I learned later that this is good way to see what was worth stealing without waking anyone up. As my tiny home was perched on top of a bigger dwelling it did look just another storey. They fucked up big time. I had nothing to worth stealing.
Now you see how suitable nightwear was a good idea.
At this point neither of us were sure what to say. She wasn’t a particularly scary looking person. But I surmised that she was actually what we might call a ‘terrier’, a small person who could squeeze through a window, go inside and open the front door for the much bigger burglars. So, I decided to be pleasant. I still have an entirely blank sheet when it comes to having a fight, apart from the time I was punched in the shoulder by mistake by a man who was actually aiming for someone else.
“Hello” I said, trying to add a small smidgeon of please don’t kill me in my voice. “Who are you?”.
She paused and tried to gather herself. I’d asked her who she was, although I knew then (and certainly know now) that she wasn’t going to tell me her actual name… that would be too much to ask.
During the pause in conversation - as my burglar reached for a moniker that sounded reasonably not made up - I realised that she’d picked up on my change jar, which had once originally held Quality Street chocolates. It was now a massively heavy receptacle of mainly low value coins, which was now sat at her feet. Hardly the Brink’s-Matt.
So… she’d had a bit of time to conjure up a convincing account of herself for me. And this is what she said: -
“I’m Gail. Gail McKenna” Not bad. The actual Gail McKenna was a Page Tree Girl, but I wasn’t expecting her to announce that she was Germaine Greer.
“ I was… I was just passing your flat and the front door was open… I thought it was a bit odd and so I just popped in to make sure you were okay”
That’s bollocks. I lived on a first-floor balcony which leads to a dead end, so nobody was ‘just passing’. Especially ddress)
She pointed in a vague direction and said in a ‘please let me go’ way: “
“Okay, well, I’m fine. Thank you for the concern, I’ll show you out.”
It should be noted that the front door was actually locked, even though she said that was the way she got in… but I gently opened it and she went on her way and I said ‘bye bye!.
She didn’t take the big jar of pennies, but did help herself to the only money I did have on show. A whopping £2.75, which was all I had left of my giro, and was going to buy me lunch. Bitch.
I stood frozen in the middle of the room. Did that that actually happen? What do I do? Should I call someone? I opted for 999, and eventually a sarcastic older-looking policeman turned up to comfort me.
“Well,” he said. “There’s just about zero chance we can do anything about it. And nothing much was taken and you’re okay… Sooooo….” I was given a crime number, the forensics team found nothing and left me with black dust to clean up and I was left alone.
I still felt like I dreamed the entire event.
It could have been a lot worse. And in the end I got an emergncy payment from the social, which totalled more that the money that ‘Gail’ took. So, I guess that’s the happy ending.