Motherburgle Update (In which the burglars get caught, by burgling a copper)
I'm sure if this was a soap opera, it would be panned for not being believable.
The police think that there were two burglars, who got in by breaking a window at the back, and then took the patio door off its runners to get out again. The neighbour hasn't noticed anything obviously missing in the house, but I've been waiting to go down there until I got a list from my mother of where she put valuables like her laptop. Of course, it could be that they broke in, found it freezing cold, dark, covered in mould, and hard to move around without tripping over garden furniture and tasteless gnome-like-things stored inside for the winter, so they'd given it up as a bad job and gone elsewhere.
The soap-opery part is that they then had a go at another house down the road, which happened to belong to a policeman, and one of them got caught! So the police were particularly enthusiastic about going through my mother's house for forensics ASAP, because they could only hold the suspect for 24 hours before bringing charges. Meanwhile, I talked to her insurance company and dispatched someone to make the place secure.
I sent a soothing email to my mother saying that there was a teensyweensy little problem, namely an attempted break-in around the back by someone who got caught red-handed, and would she mind giving me a list of her valuables so we could check everything was OK.
Fortunately she replied after 24 hours with a few useful details (along with a long ramble about how perhaps she ought to just give us the house now rather than when she died, and maybe she'd be able to afford to rent somewhere, if she didn't eat, or something). Then she phoned, so that she could repeat the same thing but with added sighs, but I knew she'd do this so I got Sarah to take the call. Sorry wifey, not the best present for Valentine's day, I know! I love you dearly, and appreciate it.
Next step, go down there and see what's been stolen for ourselves. Her list of "valuables" contained very little that a burglar or anyone else would recognise as "valuables", and a whole long list of "check the Madagascan carved wooden dog in your father's old room, and the Balinese wicker deity in the living room that was really expensive, the Tibetan Goat Head sculpture hanging on the wall, that gorgeous Naga I love so much, and so on, and so on". All I can say diplomatically is that her collectables are an acquired taste, and as such perhaps have little resale value in the pubs of East London compared to jewellery and big TVs. Well, we shall see.
The police think that there were two burglars, who got in by breaking a window at the back, and then took the patio door off its runners to get out again. The neighbour hasn't noticed anything obviously missing in the house, but I've been waiting to go down there until I got a list from my mother of where she put valuables like her laptop. Of course, it could be that they broke in, found it freezing cold, dark, covered in mould, and hard to move around without tripping over garden furniture and tasteless gnome-like-things stored inside for the winter, so they'd given it up as a bad job and gone elsewhere.
The soap-opery part is that they then had a go at another house down the road, which happened to belong to a policeman, and one of them got caught! So the police were particularly enthusiastic about going through my mother's house for forensics ASAP, because they could only hold the suspect for 24 hours before bringing charges. Meanwhile, I talked to her insurance company and dispatched someone to make the place secure.
I sent a soothing email to my mother saying that there was a teensyweensy little problem, namely an attempted break-in around the back by someone who got caught red-handed, and would she mind giving me a list of her valuables so we could check everything was OK.
Fortunately she replied after 24 hours with a few useful details (along with a long ramble about how perhaps she ought to just give us the house now rather than when she died, and maybe she'd be able to afford to rent somewhere, if she didn't eat, or something). Then she phoned, so that she could repeat the same thing but with added sighs, but I knew she'd do this so I got Sarah to take the call. Sorry wifey, not the best present for Valentine's day, I know! I love you dearly, and appreciate it.
Next step, go down there and see what's been stolen for ourselves. Her list of "valuables" contained very little that a burglar or anyone else would recognise as "valuables", and a whole long list of "check the Madagascan carved wooden dog in your father's old room, and the Balinese wicker deity in the living room that was really expensive, the Tibetan Goat Head sculpture hanging on the wall, that gorgeous Naga I love so much, and so on, and so on". All I can say diplomatically is that her collectables are an acquired taste, and as such perhaps have little resale value in the pubs of East London compared to jewellery and big TVs. Well, we shall see.