Tag Archives: police

The Unit. Day 25

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LB was well and truly back to his old self today.  We could hear him chuckling away to himself as soon as we went in the unit. Tasty cottage pie smells, a Yellow Pages to leaf through, Al Murray on his DVD player and a jug full of squash in his room. His day was rocking. He bounced off to get Rosie and I drink, then we hung out answering his questions about the break-in at Rosie’s student house. Burglars, forensic police, finger printing and offloading an Xbox on the black market. The stuff of dreams for LB.

When we went to leave, I asked him if he wanted me to bring him anything in particular tomorrow. Silence.

“Hey, LB, say now if you want Mum to bring anything tomorrow, while you’ve got the chance.”

“Now now now now now NOW!!!“

The £20 note and the Queen

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Got on the bus this morning with a £20 note. And no change. Not a good move.

The driver shook his head. “No change.”

“Arghhhh.. sorry, I haven’t got anything smaller.”
“No change,” he said, poking at his change drawer.

The guy behind me was jingling some coins.

“Can I get the change in town, when you’ve taken some cash?”
“Doubt it. I’ve got no change so far. The best I can do is a change receipt.”
“Ooh, Ok.. What do I do with that?”
“Take it to our depot in Outer Mongolia.” (teeny bit of embellishment there..)
“Isn’t there somewhere  a bit closer to do that?”
“Gloucester Green.”
“Oh, Ok. I’ll do that. But if you’ve got the change when I get off, can I cash it in with you?”
“No. I wouldn’t have any cash left if I did that.”
“Well you ain’t got any now..”

Shrug.

“Ok, I’ll take the receipt. Thanks.”

Fifteen minutes I looked up from Candy Crush. The bus had stopped, not at a bus stop.

Eh? I looked out the window. Where are we? Dunno, but everyone was piling off the bus. Speaking to the driver in turn.

“What’s going on?” I asked when it was my turn.

“Detour. High Street’s shut. The Queen’s coming.”

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Strange times.

Pussy Parlour and the evening raid

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A year or so after we moved into our gaffe, a delivery man knocked on the door. I signed for the parcel while he looked wistfully at the house across the street.

“Ah, those were the days…,” he said, shaking his head. “Pussy Parlour. I used to deliver there every few weeks.”

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The mystery of the couple and the baby

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Another totally random happening. I’ve reconstructed it using soft toys, because again I didn’t think to take a picture at the time.  Mind you, they might have got a bit angry if I did.

It was a lovely sunny afternoon and I was at home with all the windows open.  I noticed a car pull up on the pavement in front of our house. A couple got out with a baby and came into our front garden.  I went to open the door thinking they were calling round for some reason.  Instead of coming to knock on the door, they sat down on the grass. “Oh”, I said. “Er, sorry, did you want something?” “Oh, no”, he replied.  “Ok, I just wondered what you were doing?” I said, totally puzzled.  “We just came off the motorway and my wife needs to feed the baby”, he replied.    Continue reading →