I am not one of life’s Pollyannas. I do try to be positive, especially as a parent of growing girls who need nourishing and protecting from the critical onslaught of modern grown up life. But, that said, I do sometimes struggle with the ‘everything happens for a reason’ view on the more shitty experiences of life.
This week something happened that swung the needle in favour of glass half full – my car was broken into.
I know, it doesn’t seem an obvious catalyst for positive mindfulness but stick with me.
We had been away for a few days and got home at about 8pm. The next morning the tween and I went out to the car and she commented that the passenger door was not properley closed. I thought it was a bit odd and peered inside. My car is basically a skip masquerading as a hatchback and it took some time for me to realise that the mess I was looking at was a different mess to the one I had left the night before. Glove box open, contents wrenched out, glasses cases shaken open and discarded, travel sick pills, CDs, maps and manuals all opened and tossed aside. Closer inspection revealed that the sat nav and all it’s accessories had been taken.
I know what you are thinking. What kind of wally leaves the sat nav in the car overnight? The exact same kind of wally who thought she had locked the car and forgot to double check, that’s who.
So, back into the house we go as I mutter and curse about my own idiocy, and the total crap-ness of people who think stealing is OK, in equal measure. Well, not quite equal – my rage at the mindless cretin who robbed me was a bit greater than my own self loathing.
At this point my faith in the good of mankind was rock bottom but on dialling 101 to report the incident (I’ve got all the lingo now) things took a turn for the Pollyanna better.
- 101 was very busy and an automated message asked me for my number and a time when I could be called back. I was called back at the exact time I have stated.
- A very lovely lady from Dorset police took all the details and was even gracious enough to to try and make me feel better about my twittery with the whole unlocked door/valuables left in the car thing. She promised to send an officer round when they were less busy dealing with all the proper crimes in Dorchester.
- A few hours later a policeman turned up for a chat, looked at the car and said that there may be the chance of getting some fingerprints so he would see if CSI were available. He warned me that they too were very busy and reminded us not to touch anything.
- Lo and behold at 8.30pm a van drove up and out popped a chap with ‘Forensics’ written on his sleeve. He proceeded to dust for prints (more lingo) while we watched from the window beside ourselves with excitement at the Inspector Morse-ness of it all.
- Excitement reached fever pitch when the nice CSI chap came in to take all our fingerprints to eliminate us from his findings (I reckon I’ve got enough vocab to write a crime drama by now).
I was already wide eyed and stunned at the speed and efficiency with which the situation had been handled when the teen piped up to Mr Nice CSI that she was interested in his profession. By the time he had taken our prints and packed away his kit he had given her a full run down of the best career route, inside tips and info on how to succeed and left his number should she want some work experience once she is in the sixth form.
To say that we were left feeling warm and fuzzy would be an understatement. I went from being a hissing distrustful wreck to a serene ‘every cloud-er’ in the space of 12 hours.
I would still like to find the person who robbed me, sit on their head and fart, but, had the sat nav not been taken I would not have had a life affirming experience that restored my faith in humanity, and the teen may well have missed out on a glittering career as Forensic Scientist. Scotland Yard here we come.