Monday Miscellany

Well last week was, from the point of view of Blogland, a complete write-off.  On Tuesday I was up before 0500. I got the early ferry from Stornoway to Ullapool and at about 0945 set off on the 270 mile drive to Ayr. As I'd come out of quarantine it was a question of go straight there without passing Go and without collecting £200 (I hated Monopoly but still use Monopoly analogies). 

I arrived at the Hospital and was immediately tested for Covid-19. I passed - negative.

Next day I had the kidney stent replaced. Unfortunately the fact that it was around 7 months overdue meant that the surgeon had a rather difficult time extracting a stone from some passage or other and the work proved a little sore for a day or two and it took a few days for the infection I'd had for the last few months to be conquered. Anyway by Saturday all was back to normal and I was released into the big wide world once more. I stayed overnight with a friend because I couldn't get a ferry until the Sunday evening on which, fortuitously, I was already booked. 

So today has been sort out and try and get back to normal day. 

The ferry on the way over was awash with barking dogs. What is it with people who can't control their dog? If you can't control your dog and stop it barking at every passing shadow then don't bring it on public transport (or muzzle it)! It's bad enough having a massive mountain dog 100 yards away at home that barks constantly but at least I can close the windows and go into the other side of the house. I detest barking dogs - in case you hadn't noticed. Rant over.

Social distancing on the ferry is very good and, unless eating or drinking their coffee masks are the order of the day. However a chap walked past me (duly masked) a few metres away and as he did so a massive wave of tobacco smoke from his clothes followed him. Apart from the distinct unpleasantness, it occurred to me that the aerosols that contain the smell are presumably the same ones that can contain the Covid-19 virus. Food for rather unpleasant thought. 

On a lighter note one of the chaps in the hospital had been feeding his neighbour's two dogs for a couple of days. He let them out into the garden (their back gardens were adjacent and could be accessed without going through the house) several times a day and fed them too. He was puzzled after the first night as to why one dog came out and then after eating and doing what it had to do went in and the other one came out. After this ritual had been repeated for the whole weekend he went in to see what was happening in the house. He followed the second dog into the house and it immediately went upstairs (they usually lived downstairs). He followed and found a chap on top of the wardrobe with the dog standing guard. It turned out that the chap was in fact a burglar and when he broke in on the Friday evening the dogs had chased him upstairs and he's been on top of the wardrobe all weekend with one or both of the dogs on guard! Yuk. The chap next door is a police dog handler/trainer.

A Good Honest Burglar

I am not sure how many readers will know what burglary is. In case anyone does not it was, in English Law at the time of this incident, it was the act of breaking into a dwelling-house by night with intent to commit a felony. In short it was usually prosecuted where there was breaking and entering into a house to steal something at night. The term 'burglary' does not appear in Scots law. It is probably understood in most countries inheriting the English Legal System.

I was walking into the Stipendiary Magistrates Court in Liverpool back in the early '60s  with a police sergeant for a case about which I remember absolutely nothing.

On the way into the courtroom we bumped into a man of completely forgettable stature and demeanour ie he would not be noticed in a crowd of three. I will refer to him as Fred. The conversation between the Sergeant and the Accused (for that was what he turned out to be) went like this:

S: What are you here for Fred?

F: The ??? job in Childwall.

S: Did you do it?

F: What do you think?

S: Can we prove it?

F: Nah. Don't think so.

S: Good luck.

In my inexperienced naive youthfulness this exchange was an eyeopener of major proportions.

I asked the Sergeant what all that was about? 

"Fred is one of the good, honest old fashioned burglars. Breaks in cleanly. Finds what he wants without creating any mess and leaves. If we can prove it he accepts the punishment and if not he's on a winner." He then went on to describe what he thought about the sort of burglar the police were now concentrating on who were the scum of the earth who broke in and wrecked the house in the process of looking for anything they could sell. The difference was that for Fred and his ilk it was his trade and he was proud of it. With a bit of luck it might be days or weeks before anyone realised something was missing.

Thank you Ursula for the idea you gave me for this recollection in your comment on my last post.