When I arrived home from work yesterday evening, there were several teenagers hanging around under the trees on the green outside our house. I noticed them because of their propensity to shout and whistle across the green to each other instead of walk and talk. Every other word also began with F, which I will admit caused me to shake my head.
I jumped off my bike, and rolled it up the side of the house, where we are due to have a gate fitted any day now.
This morning I put my helmet on, threw my backpack on my back, and wandered out to grab the bike.
One problem. No bike.
This morning I have a “crime reference number” for the first time in my life. After 8 years of peaceful existence in a quiet corner of town, the local kids I have always sided with and given the benefit of the doubt have provided me with just the excuse to take the same view that everybody else seems to.
I guess the term “once bitten” is appropriate.
Strangely, I’m not furious about the bike being stolen. Annoyed perhaps, but remarkably calm about it. I guess now we have a family, the importance of various things that might happen has been revised somehow - in the great scheme of things having to buy a new bike isn’t exactly earth shattering.
I must remember to buy some padlocks too. And CCTV. And a baseball bat.