Part 3. That little runt ..

I walked slowly back in to the large house, sunk myself into their soft leather swivel chair in the Homeopathy Consultating room that l'm normally in awe of, felt both large AND small at the same time, and dialled 999.

'What is your emergency, caller'.

'I've just chased an intruder through the garden', l gasped. Not with exhaustion but a panicky, nervous, reality thing.

'Please contact your local police station. This is for life threatening situations only. Have a good day, now'. Click.

Fair enough.

I rang the local nick, giving a brief account of what had transpired, and warned them that he'd headed towards the north of that particular street. As it was now ten minutes after the whole event, he'd probably jumped on a bus or ducked for cover. It wasn't my problem now. I hoped that a passing patrol car would have a shufty in that poly bag of his. Now for my sun burn ..

My son's arrival from holiday had been delayed, so l wasn't required to go hug him at the airport after all. I was both relieved and disappointed. I wanted a 'there there, mum. Who's a brave, little soldier, eh?', but l settled for a overflowing-with-bubbles bath, and an early night. I had a busy day next day.

I was up an' at 'em, dressed and ready to rock n roll at 6.30am the following morning. Heading for the gym first thing, then an early doors graduation at the theatre where l worked, followed by a 2pm 'We'll meet again' Vera Lynn matinee then a 6pm ballet.

I'd packed my swimming gear, gathered various bits and bobs for my long day ahead. Salady stuff for lunch and cereal for tea. So, between the tupperware, carton of soya milk, uniform for work, flip flops for the pool, and hair products for after my swim, l organized my chaos into a little suitcase that would normally be used for travelling hand luggage. And it was. Handy.

It was another cracking day, and l tidied up, checked locks, made up the sofa bed, ready for coming in late that night.

After the cackling, demented DJ was switched off from the on-low-but-still-too-loud Radio Two breakfast show, I walked quickly to the kitchen table to collect my things. I had this real nice wallet that you could use as a clutch bag too. I loved how distinguished it looked. I'd stuffed everything in it, but needed to remove and hide my passport, a fairly substantial amount of cash to pay a bill with, a bank card, credit card, and gym ID.

With rising panic and full knowledge, l pretended. 'Where the fuck had l put the damn thing'. As there was only a few minutes to spare till my bus into town, l stomped around that room, opening and closing cutlery drawers, sticking my face into cupboards full of earthenware, knowing deep-down the little runt had swiped MY purse!

Now.

Being a newbie to this malarkey, l had no idea of my next move. So l did what my body required, which was burst into tears! I'd been burgled. Robbed. Stolen from. Me, who didn't kill a fly, l shooed them oot the windie, for goodness sake. Why me. Why now?

'Well, at least you weren't hurt'.

'It could have been worse'.

'Thank goodness you had put that money in the freezer'.

What?!

Oh, yeah. I'd been left a wad for emergencies. They always did that. Five hundred quid. I'd put it in the freezer in the utility room, miles away from the kitchen area, in a poly bag, tucked behind the organic duck breasts! Whew ..

I had my day all planned out. A wonderfully busy, happy, sun filled, extravaganza of a day, and now?

I felt sick. That wee c*nt had had it away with MY beloved purse.

And to think l didn't realise yesterday. What a fool. What's the next step.

Heeeeeelp ..