Criminally bent...

FG and I woke up this morning to the news of the £25m heist down the road of us here in Kent. We were amazed and intrigued by it. As CSI geeks and compulsive crime story readers and tv-show watchers we figured out the following:

1. There must have been at least ten of them - 2 to take the manager hostage, 2 to take his family hostage. The rest would be waiting at the depot or closeby.
2. Once at the depot the manager would have called the staff in for a meeting - the others would come in and take them all hostage.
3. Say three or four guys to keep the hostages under guard whilst the rest load the van with as much cash as they could.

We grinned at one another over our brekkie thinking that yes, we are such clever deviants. Much to our shock it happened almost exactly like that. Ooo, er, missus! Are we just really clever or are we criminally bent?

Next few things to figure out:

1. Do not run with the money - airports and trainstations are watched 24/7.
2. Divide the cash, dump the cars used, either steal or use the reserve cars stashed somewhere else in a garage or a warehouse.
3. Split up.
4. Maybe go back to your day job, as if nothing had happened - it was early enough to work okay.
5. Tell no one.
6. Escape into the countryside.

Easy as pie. I figure that these chaps are very clever - they must have been watching the depot itself for ages, along with everyone who worked there. They learned their routes, their routines, who did what ... its easy enough to follow someone around, no one EXPECTS to be followed around by a criminal!

I would love to see what happens now - I see the amount of money has now gone up from £25,000,000 to £55,000,000. And the coppers are offering a £2M reward...would you grass up your mate for that little if they are sitting with £55M?

Grin.

I feel a "Evil Ruler of the Universe" pose coming on, complete with stroking my white cat.

Meaow!

Death of a stove...

It is a trauma beyond imagining dear friends.

My stove died - in fact, it blew up. Two Sundays ago we were waiting for our lovely baguette to bake in the oven so that we could have it with our lovely chicken ceasar salad when BOOM it went. We ran into the kitchen in time to see the oven light go fweeeep and shut down.

We giggled nervously wondering WTF is going on? Did just the light blow? We peered into the darkness of the oven, worried. But it revealed no secrets. We fiddled with nobs. Nothing. Nada.

A dead oven.

And this happened last year too - one week before Easter. Thank the gods that we have a relatively good agency who looks after us. I rang them up on Monday, bearing in mind that it is school holiday, and explained to our agent, a lovely patient and funny chap, that I managed to kill another oven. Within less than a year. He laughed and said that yes, it was suspicious but that he would take pity on me and send their electrician/handy man out to come and have a look. I have waited one week. A very very very very long WEEK. SEVEN days with no oven - do you know how bad that is?

I made friends who came around to visit us this weekend shell out money to buy pizza from Dominos. I could not bear trying to cook for five people on just the stove-top. No one questioned the Dominos purchase - all I had to email to them is "my oven is broken" and they all understood immediately. I got a reply from one of them. It went like this:

Uh-oh. Broken stove + one week without decent food = Angry Liz.

Oh, how well do they know me?

I rang the agents again today as I have not heard of the electrician chappy or anyone, for that matter. I was apologised to. My number was dutifully passed onto the right people. Now all I have to do is wait. Impatiently. For someone to ring me to get me out of my kitchen hell.

And don't you dare say "but at least you had your stovetop" or "why don't you buy ready meals and microwave them?" because...well, you know, I need my oven whole! So I can bake bread and grill fish cakes and bake cake and stuff...its like losing the use of my arm or sumat.

It is dreadful. Oh, gods of the kitchens, please, I implore you - fix it!

A milliner's tale...

In 1797 a hatmaker on the Strand who fancied himself as something of a dandy, invented the top hat. So proud was John Hetherington on his natty new headgear, that he went for a stroll on the Strand but his enthusiasm was not shared by the general public.

“The sight of his hat caused a sensation; people booed, several women fainted, a crowd gathered and a small boy got his arm broken in the crush. Hetherington was arrested and fined £50 for “appearing on the public highway wearing upon his head a tall structure calculated to frighten timid people.”

Naming and shaming

If you read the previous post, you know I did my first bit of online shopping with one of our local supermarkets here in the UK fully expecting fantastic service and the convenience of having it all delivered to the house, as we were without a car for about 2 weeks - the alternator went and died on us.

Har! The supermarket in question rang the night of the delivery, at quarter past eight to say "the delivery won't be taking place as there is a problem at the store, please call customer services to arrange for a different time, the following day."

""$^$%&%^**(()&*)*()_ - is what I thought. I rang customer services, fully expecting to be treated as a preferred customer as the delivery had been cancelled by them and not us. The customer service chap sounded about ten and seemed petrified of me. Now, I know I can be scary once I get going, but at that point, I was merely bemused and a bit curious.

Him: Oh madam, we can only fit you in on the 9 - 11 pm delivery slot.

Me: What, how is that possible? My delivery was cancelled, surely I get preferred delivery times. I have NO food in the house. Our off-licence on the corner closes at half seven at night. I say again, I have NO food in the house.

Him: I understand. But there is nothing I can do about the slots. I can make sure you are refunded your £3.99 delivery charge.

Me: Do you know what went wrong at the branch?

Him: No, not a clue, madam.

Me: Give me the branch number.

Him: Rattles off the number.

I say thank you. I hang up and ring the branch.

It eventually gets answered.

Me: Hi, I am ringing to enquire why there are no deliveries this evening. I have received a message on my mobile stating that there is a problem at the branch.

The Branch: Madam, I have got a list of customers who I am ringing to notify them of the problem we are currently experiencing. We can't deliver any orders.

Me: Why? What has happened?

The Branch: Madam, I am not entirely sure...I think we are having problems with the vans.

Me: What? All of them?

The Branch in a vague voice: Madam, I can't say, I'm afraid. I really don't know...I think it must be the vans. That's what I heard. They just gave me a list and told me to ring customers...

Me: It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Chelsea is playing an important football match and the drivers are rather watching the game than working, is it?

The Branch: I'm afraid I cannot comment on that, madam.

I hang up.

Thursday I wrote a stinking letter to the supermarket. What shit service. For a first time online customer as well - I am shocked and will NEVER EVER AGAIN buy from there EVER AGAIN, online or otherwise.

Birthday Me!

Wow - what a lovely weekend.

I turned 33 yesterday but decided that Sundays are invariably days of rest for friends, that we should meet up in town on Saturday for a gorgeous meal and some nattering.

I chose Browns for the lunch - dependable food, good service and the atmosphere is friendly and welcoming. There was ten of us and it was lovely to see all my friends there. I was spoilt rotten, with presents galore! We stayed there till about four and eventually, reluctantly left, and made our various ways home, or to go walkabout town.

Breakdown of presents:

1 x New Queen Madge CD
1 x Milla CD
2 x Guitar books
1 x new novel set in Rome
1 x beautiful miniature zen meditation garden
2 x pairs of Socks (I genuinely asked for these!)
1 x Hero dvd
1 x very lovely new expensive earphones for my MP3 player
1 x esoteric book!
1 x huge, divine hand poured scented candle

= good pressie hoard!

The grande day itself was a relaxing one - FG and I had a lazy breakfast, we mooched about the house, decided to go for a walk and ended up in Beckenham where we had coffee and a hot chocolate at Costa Coffee - even the howler monkeys in the form of babies and kids, didn't worry us much. We got home, read a bit, watched the rugby - Scotland pounded France, go the tartan army! - and dozed and well, it was a genuinely lazy day where I got all the tea I wanted, I even got some popcorn! All in all it was a grown up, lazy birthday without having to rush around like crazy people to make sure everyone visiting has been fed etc.

Thanks for everyone joining me on Saturday and thanks for all my text messages yesterday! I am sure everyone in Costa Coffee thought I was a social butterfly, inbetween sipping hot chocolate, writing in my journal and texting, I looked quite the important one!

I am off work today - for a change - and am looking forward to sitting down in about an hour and working on my novel till FG comes home. I did my first bout of home shopping today too with Tesco and feel quite the techno wiz! Here's hoping they can deliver the 17 items I bought...

Will post back on that on Wednesday evening when it gets delivered!

Sometimes the Magic Works

There are days that are just utterly magical.

And today is one of them.

The air outside is cold. It freezes your face and sticks in your throat and sends shivers down your spine. You hunker deeper down into your scarf and warm coat, relieved that you decided to wrap up warm before leaving the warm nest of your house.

The walk to the station is an exploration – the air is cold enough to have formed a strange kind of mist that Hollywood producers pay thousands to special effects people to recreate when doing scary movies. The traffic is slow and there seems to be a lull in general sound. The station is that bit deserted that makes you wonder if you have somehow missed the notification of a new holiday.

The train journey into town is slow, giving you ample time to look out through the windows onto empty parks where the ground mists are creeping across the ground, circling the empty park benches. The train chuckles along, giving tantalising glimpses of a city wrapped in mist. I can see the Docklands and the high rises are squat because of the low cloud. We pick up speed as we pass London Bridge and soon we are crossing the Thames. The London Eye looms large and curious on its banks, only half visible to the eye and behind it the houses of parliament and Westminster Abbey. Too soon we are at our destination.

For a few vivid moments people swirl around in bright scarves and woolly hats as they exit from their carriages, leaving Charing Cross Station. The cold air is waiting outside, to welcome you. You inhale deeply, after the warmth of the train the fresh air chases the lethargy, forcing you to walk briskly to your office. Trafalgar Square is swept clean, with no pigeons in sight. The lions keep guard at the bottom and I shrug deeper into my coat and bury my chin in my scarf. The wind is cutting and my eyes water.

Along Pall Mall I squint and can imagine I can see all the way down to the bare bones of the trees in Hyde Park. But I cannot and it is only my imagination. The streets are practically deserted of traffic and a few pedestrians swiftly stride towards their destinations, oblivious of the history around them. I take my time and wonder at the mystery of this ancient city. I feel comfortable in my skin today and it feels like I can hug this ancient place that has given so much to the world since time began.

I step into my building off Regent Street and leave my wondering-self at the door. There is no place for mystery and musings on ancient things here.