I’ve been trying to think of a way to make light of something that happened chez Klein on Friday night. But I can’t. I’m just so bloody angry about it.
While Brian and I were out with Daisy and her Swedish guest on Friday (we’d taken them for ice-cream to a lovely old fashioned café and ice-cream parlour just outside Edinburgh) some thieving scrote** broke into our house and stole Daisy’s ipod and Brian’s camera (plus lenses, filters, memory cards, new camera bag etc). The only consolation*** was that the wallet of mine that he stole was full of old store cards and the kids’ library cards (which someone found near the house and returned!) Add to this an inefficient, couldn’t-care-less attitude from the insurance company (yes, Royal Bank of Scotland I’m talking about you), window repairers who didn’t appear as promised on Saturday, then, it turned out, couldn’t be contacted ’til Monday and you have the perfect recipe for a less than jolly weekend. On top of this we have the added embarrassment of this happening while we were playing host to a guest from abroad.
It would be fair to say that I am pissed off.
* No sexual stereotyping here.
** Hmm, can “scrote” be applied to a female?
***Actually, there was more than one. The fingerprint guys got two nice clear prints off our front window. Here’s hoping they find a match for them.
UPDATE: It appears that Daisy’s school bag was also stolen. She’s lost all her English and Modern Studies folders and notes. The bag itself is grotty – broken zip on the front pocket, strap coming loose and shredded lining.
Now I want to hurt the person who did this just for the distress they’ve caused my child.