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Saturday, 29 July 2017

Responsibility.

I was out running through my local park recently, when I approached a lady walking in the opposite direction with two Scottish terriers in tow. Dogs are allowed off their leash whilst under their owners' supervision.

Coming off a steep downslope, one of the dogs with buckets of attitude, came snarling forward with teeth bared.

Travelling in the opposite direction, I ignored the dog as it did a spin to follow me, nipping at my ankles. The female owner didn't even blink, continued walking and didn't recall the dog.

Running about fifty metres with this pup ever gaining, I had to take control of the situation. I did what it least expected and turned and shouted at it. Frightened, the poor thing hadn't a clue what to do. It scuttled away, following its master.

The dog owner looked back toward her own dog, with leads swinging in her right hand.

I shouted at the owner, about a hundred feet away, if she knew the rules of the park. If dogs cannot be supervised properly, they should be kept on a lead.

Your dog must be accompanied by and be under your effective control or the control of another responsible person if it is outside your home or premises or the home or premises of the person in charge of it.

Her simple reply was:

"He hates joggers."

She never apologised for her dogs' actions and seemed used to him doing it, oblivious to others.

I shouted after her that she was an ignorant woman, inconsiderate to other people using the park. I then called her several expletives under my breath. As I jogged away, I started thinking if that same thing had happened to a child, would her laid-back attitude still be the same?

We have a young son of three and he is energetic. I'd like to think that we're doing a decent job and instilling good manners as part of routine.

What frightens me most is the amount of parents that take very little interest in their child's development, education and responsibility for their actions.

It's a bit like the dog owner not giving two hoots about what actions her dog took toward a stranger. The dog doesn't just learn this overnight, just like a child. It takes a pattern of learned helplessness for a child to do something bold or wrong, and not get chastised for it. To the child, this pattern isn't wrong, as their role model is not telling them any different.

Prime example for me would be local playgrounds. Our son loves getting outdoors and swings are a favourite of his. The amount of parents or guardians that sit on a bench staring into their phone for fifteen or twenty minutes, without once glancing in the direction of their own child, is frightening. On numerous occasions, one of us has appraoched the parent asking if they were actually there with a child - because the child is screaming after falling and they haven't noticed!

I understand that having more than one child is tough, and any respite for a parent, for five or ten minutes staring at a screen, seems like a welcome distraction.

Being a parent or guardian for a dog, is your responsibility.

Once you sign a document or attach your name to a birth register, you are ultimately accountable for them and their actions. Whether they are wrong or not, you have to teach them the right path.

I have since decided that I will give Scottish terrier lady another chance. I run through that park at least twice a week and see many people on a regular basis using our neighbourhood amenity.

No doubt I'll bump into her, and her dogs again.

Will they be on a lead? Will they be supervised properly?

I'd better get the number of the local dog warden.

Friday, 20 January 2017

Tuesday, 22 November 2016

The people I meet everyday.: Terms and Conditions.I am an imbecile.I believ...

The people I meet everyday.: Terms and Conditions.

I am an imbecile.

I believ...
: Terms and Conditions. I am an imbecile. I believed the hype. I saw their shiny ads and like a sucker I was drawn in. The introductory of...
Terms and Conditions.

I am an imbecile.

I believed the hype. I saw their shiny ads and like a sucker I was drawn in. The introductory offer seemed too good to be true. In the end, it was, and I paid for it. Why? Because I didn't read the fine print.


No one likes being ripped off. Even the most thorough and intelligent of us get swiped in some way. Businesses have to make money, logic we all understand, but those three words above give companies licence to extract as much money out of their customers, sometimes without moral justification.

I was talking to a company today, that used to provide me with a service I no longer use. I spoke to a lady, who clearly stayed unemotive throughout, who informed me that according to their records, I had NOT cancelled my subscription to their service. So, for the past three months I was charged E70 per month for a service I wasn't using. Not only that, but because they have a 31 cancellation service, I was probably going to be liable for another months billing!

The most frustrating aspect of it all is that I know I cancelled it - but I have no evidence that I did. They state they have a record of all calls made and the time I called to cancel, wasn't registered on their system. The conspiracy theorist inside me said it was very convenient from their point of view, but now I was riddled with self doubt. Did I cancel it or did I imagine it?

I work in a business that is almost entirely based on the emotional connection between customer and company. Satisfaction with our company, from the customer viewpoint, is very high in comparison with similar companies. We provide a service that is excellent, and yet we are harsh on ourselves that it could be so much better.

We do understand various different scenarios where the customer is dissatisfied. We try our best to resolve the issues as soon as possible, so that the customer may consider buying from us in the future. The main difference is that we are humans, dealing with humans.

We don't read from a script and pride ourselves from thinking outside the box. We listen to a person with a problem and make judgements accordingly. We DON'T repeat the same line eight times when posed with a legitimate customer query. This type of stance doesn't allay the customer fears that they are not being listened to. It merely annoys the customer even more.

So when you're next purchasing a service from a home provider, follow these simple steps.

Firstly, speak to a human. Use relaxed banter and commonality to establish a relationship. If this person is not a robot, you may find an actual answer to your question. Be aware that some of them do not deviate from their training manual. Get the things you want - no more, no less.

Secondly, pay for your product or service via Direct Debit. This gives you the control to stop a payment by contacting your bank. Do NOT give them your direct bank details. I found this to be an expensive lesson. You could potentially save yourself a major headache in the long run.

Thirdly, ask for your contact details to be deleted from their marketing department. They may have commercial partners that they may share your information with - make sure this doesn't happen. I got calls from this company for 18 days consecutively, and they never call at an appropriate time. I told them today that this borders on harassment.

Lastly, ask about the terms and conditions of your contract. Ask them to forward details on to you via email. Some nefarious ones, have odd cancellation policies on many products and services, which incurs a further few quid from your pocket. I understand that reading these mundane pieces of information are mind-numbingly boring, but it's necessary.

Compare and contrast prices before you make a decision. We all love a bargain and don't mind telling others when a service is excellent.

Equally, we should scream it loudly when we are unfairly swindled.


Friday, 20 May 2016

Why I LOVE Ireland.

The colours of this country are brightest when the sun shines. I'm not talking about the different shades of green on the ground or in the trees - I'm referring to the people.

Dublin Zoo.
Irish people are the envy of others all around the world. Why? Because we have an innate ability to talk. Our favourite subject is the weather and our comparative lack of sunshine. We love moaning about how many rainy days in a row we've had and where trees used to stand before wind blew them down.

We're happiest when the sun shines for a few consecutive days. We start conversations with "this might be our summer!" Of course, we have no idea how long the good spell will last and are begrudging on ourselves enjoying it. 

Rivervalley Park.
We wear clothing that hasn't been seen since the "last summer that lasted three days." They may fit a little tighter and the colours may be gaudy, but we don't care. The orange ball in the sky is giving us Vitamin D direct into our veins. As a result of almost year-round sun deprivation, we tend to expose all manner of white and freckled skin to soaring temperatures. Despite medical advice of the harmful effects of skin exposure to the sun, we still reticently apply suncream - for fear that we won't get "a daycent colour."

Irish people are happiest when the sun blesses us for a prolonged period of time. If you ask any Irish person about world issues while they're out enjoying the sunshine, they will reply with " I don't really care what's gong on in the world- sure isn't the sun shining?"

Malahide - someone isn't warm enough.
Over the last week I have driven on dry roads and seen aspects of the country I hadn't seen in some time. Scenes that have been blocked by both weather and dullness have radiated through the greyness. Blues of lakes and rivers have contrasted deeply against the greens hues of grass and trees. The shine from car bonnets has been mistaken for dipped headlights.

It's also been the best few days to reinforce colours to my son. He's only a little over two and is still getting to grasps with the English language. This is a perfect opportunity to demonstrate what Ireland looks like in full colour. The words yellow and silver now have clear distinction and don't mould into the same colour.

Howth Head.
It is the people that make this country what it is. We are a nation of geniuses, begrudgers, bowsies and storytellers. We all know people who have a "gift of the gab" and those that are "cute hoors".
It is this mix of chancers and thinkers - that normally would never enter a room together - all agree when one thing happens - when the sun shines.

Weather is something that unifies us all. It is a national sport in Ireland. It is an ice breaker and an introduction all rolled into one. It sets the mood and can bring about the strongest and most honourable traits in humanity. It bashes and broils us, but never stops us talking about it. The fluctuation inspires the conversation.

Mother Natures' sun doesn't grace herself on these shores all that often, so we feel that we have to make the most of it. We make excuses to have makeshift barbecues, go for walks and enjoy being outdoors. What has struck me over the last week was how friendly strangers have been to me.

I'm one of those odd people that says hello no matter what the weather. I may only be nodding my head or saying a brief hi, but I try to make an effort. Over the last week I have noticed that utter strangers are being more friendly than I. They have said hello before I can mutter a reply.

Mayo coastline at dawn.
Is it because of the their better mood, caused by the sun? Can you imagine where this country would be in tourism terms if we had a guaranteed sunny summer every year?

Things could be so much better if the sun shined everyday in Ireland. Or would it be?

Would we ever have had the begrudging nature that is instilled in everyone's DNA? Would we ever have had the amazing writers and academics - if they all had the opportunity to go outdoors and play?

Would we have the most skilled and technologically advanced workforce in Western Europe? Would we trade this all for gifted athletes with fabulous outdoor facilities? I'm not so sure.

In the words of Pat Shortt "Sure it'd be a great country - if only we could stick a roof on it."
Would we have the comedy without the weather though?

Since I wrote this initially, wouldn't you know it, the weather has changed. Therin lies the juxtaposition of the Irish psyche. Always changing, whilst talking.










Thursday, 25 February 2016

Who I WILL and WON’T be voting for tomorrow.

Taoiseach Enda Kenny
All the views in this article are completely my own. I am not affiliated to any political party or association. Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you I am not easily swayed. I have always had a tendency to be stubborn and single-minded.

My social media experiment about tomorrow's general election was simple, and I’m so glad I did it now. I had interaction with many of the local candidates and raised issues that are pertinent to my family. 

What it revealed to me was that one politician blatantly lied (no way!), another was a snob about canvassing apartment blocks and one candidate who deserves many votes will more than likely be one of the first to be excluded.

On Monday last, I tweeted the following message to all candidates. I live in an estate called Ridgewood and have never seen a political candidate canvassing in the twelve years we have resided there.
ABC1's refers to middle or high income earners who are reasonably well educated.

You ever canvassed in Ridgewood Swords? Estate full of ABC1's. 12 years here and candidates not bothered to knock on doors.”


I had five responders within an hour. First up was Independent runner Roslyn Fuller. This was quickly followed by a limp short reply from Senator Darragh O'Brien of FF. These were the only responses I got from either over the last few days.

Next up was Sinn Fein’s Louise O’Reilly. She was eager to connect but also quick to contradict.

But most patronising and flippant was Alan Farrell TD.After our brief tweet exchange, there was no further communication between us.  He won't be getting any vote from me.

Most impressive was first time Dail runner, Lorraine Clifford Lee of FF. Unlike her FF counterpart, she was eager to chat and hear my concerns. She was polite and wanted to listen.



Of the fifteen candidates running in Dublin Fingal, twelve had Twitter accounts. Only five responses was fairly telling about how some of them see Twitter as a resource.

On Wednesday, I sent all fifteen an email and friended them all on Facebook. I sent them all the same message on both platforms. So I definitely connected with all of them in some way. They could not say I didn't contact them.

I got messages through Facebook from Terry Kelleher (AAA-PBP)  and Brendan Ryan TD (LAB). Terry was very forthright and his policy of putting money back into the pockets of ordinary people, like myself, struck a chord.

Then the response from Brendan Ryan was a flat out lie. Although I wasn't at home, my wife was. She was at home all day and the doorbell never rang. His team didn't call and his "office" were available to talk me through any of his policies. That just said to me that he wasn't available to talk to the ordinary people who put him in the Dail in the first place.

The next message was from Louise O'Reilly (SF). In fairness to her, she was informative and trying to be helpful. Some of her policies made sense to me, especially the one concerning childcare. And that is concern number one for us.

But the most farcical acknowledgement I got, was from the Secretary of James Reilly TD (FG). It would be passed onto him - but if it wasn't relevant to him, she would pass it onto the government department that it may be pertinent to. Utterly laughable.

By far the most impressive reply was from Independent councillor Dr. Marcus De Brun. He took the time to email me back personally. His email was frank and honest, not like the usual political nonsense. A lot of his policies were a bit outlandish, but there was an awful lot of common sense there too.

The three candidates I have been most impressed with are Lorraine Clifford Lee (FF), Dr. Marcus De Brun (IND) and Terry Kelleher (AAA-PBP). They have shown a willingness to interact and talk about the issues that concern my family and I.

One other that, Louise O'Reilly (SF) has been proactive and industrious. For that alone, she deserves a fourth preference vote. For her commitment and persistence, she has to be admired - even if I don't completely agree with all of her policies.

I've been most disappointed with one particular sitting TD representing the constituency. Clare Daly TD (IND), who I have voted for in past elections, has not been in contact at all. Considering she worked in the airport like myself for many years, I thought we might connect somehow and have several things in common. I was wrong.

It just tells me that those who were elected to the Dail five years ago have lost touch with the common man and woman. They do not live in the real world.

So that's why I am advocating voting for the underdog in tomorrow's election. Vote for the people who resonate with you most. Vote for those who represent you best.Vote for those who can speak on your behalf. Exercise your right to vote tomorrow - for the right people.


























Monday, 22 February 2016

The People I DON'T Meet Everyday.


I should change the name of this blog, exclusively, for the next few days. I have lived in Swords since 1997, and NOT ONE politician, councillor or election candidate has EVER darkened my door.

Lorraine Clifford Lee (FF)
Dr. James Reilly TD (FG)
Do I feel well represented by my local TD's? Honestly, I don't. I am not important enough to them. So maybe it's about time, I became relevant.

They haven't spoken for me because they have never taken the time to speak to me. This morning, I will let all fifteen candidates know who I am. As it isn't a good idea to ignore an educated member of the electorate.

Brendan Ryan TD (LAB)
The vast majority of them don't live in the same realm of the middle class. Some will portray that they do, so that they exist in the same circumstances as you. I simply work to pay bills.
Roslyn Fuller (IND)

I earn a decent wage, but a huge quantity pays taxes, utilities, direct debits and puts food in the fridge. There is very little left over in my bank account. I even went on Primetime last week to talk about how the lack of childcare and school places in Swords will have in the near future as the young population is growing exponentially. This is relevant to us as it may impact our young son, Harry.
Alan Farrell TD (FG)
Dr. Gerry Molloy (RENUA)

I have not had a wage increase since 2007. It feels like I'm living in a pay freeze. The company I work for, has had its own troubles since 2001. Various working agreements cut conditions in a move to lower its cost base. We understood the situation and realised that everyone would have to part shoulder the financial burden.

Since 2007 though, my take home pay has decreased by over 10%. I am now working 30% more for less wages. My pension has been decimated massively due to the economic downturn and bad investments. My contributions for 17 years were almost worthless.
Terry Kelleher (AAA-PBP)

Joe O'Brien (Green)
For those begrudgers who say "you're lucky to have a job"- I say this - I work damn hard at what I do and I am excellent at what I do. If people think they can do a better job than me, I would like to see them try.

Is the country getting back on it's feet? Maybe so, but I am seeing no return in my pocket. If anything, in the past ten years I am paying more taxes. In 2006, I wasn't paying property tax. Or the national embarrassment that is water tax. My car tax was lower. My car and home insurance was at a much lower rate. I was paying less PRSI and PAYE tax direct to the national coffers.
Darragh O'Brien (FF)

Marcus De Brun (IND)
The cost of living is back on the increase, yet I feel stuck. Do I see light at the end of the tunnel? No, I don't. The traditional parties spout the usual playground tit-for-tat "my policies are better than yours" nonsense, but it leaves me even more disillusioned. Any basic understanding of non-verbal communication reveals their disdain for each other and more importantly, us, as an electorate.

On Friday 26th February next, the Irish people go to the polls to cast their vote and more importantly, express their displeasure of the current state of affairs in this country.

Louise O'Reilly (SF)
Clare Daly TD (IND)
I have never gotten as involved in any election as much as this one previously. I have absorbed as much as I possibly can each day. I have watched many news reports, online outlets and terrestrial streams. I am current with most policies of many parties, especially those that pertain to my family.

I have never been so convinced about how important our votes are next Friday. I don't know which way I will vote and there is still time for the candidates to sway me.

This morning, I will give them a chance.

Tony Murphy (IND)
Barry Martin (AAA-PBP)
In this current world of social media, I will take my issues to them. I will inform all fifteen, what affects my family and what they intend to do about it. I will bombard all candidates via email, Facebook and Twitter with my concerns. I will also leave them a contact number, just to see if any avenue is taken by any candidate, to get in touch.

I will give them four days to allay my concerns.

Otherwise, I will inform my many friends on Facebook (1,342 - many of whom registered to vote in Dublin North) and Twitter (3,421 followers) on Thursday evening, about who has been proactive. Or totally inactive. The choice is theirs.



*No image available for Fergal O'Connell (IND).














Saturday, 19 December 2015

Silver Spoon.

Her self-entitled tone and dismissiveness bubbled under a quiet voice. She spoke quietly and calmly, but wanted to make a scene. She wanted something she thought she was entitled to. By talking over me, she could convince me that her point of view was the correct one.The flick of her hair in my direction while I was speaking, spoke volumes.

We are one week away from Christmas Day, and the stresses and strains of the festive period are upon us all. How we all cope with the pressure varies from person to person. Some deal with it better than others.

Personally, I think that an awful lot of undue Christmas burden stems from last minute shopping and the expectation of dealing with family and friends. We all go through this, but nothing gives anyone the right to speak down to a stranger - no matter what the time of year is.

Call it age or wisdom, but my tolerance for nonsense has decreased over the past number of years. I keep myself up to date and informed with local, national and world events. I keep abreast of current trends and new technology. I read voraciously and take immense pride in how I do my job. With experience, I think I have become quite skilled in reading body language and spotting the non-verbal communication that speaks loudest.

A couple of nights ago, I was asked to deal with a situation that involved an unhappy young lady. She spoke to my colleagues in a terse and cocky tone, something that you wouldn't normally associate with a girl of her youth. We were trying to solve her issue, but technology was failing us. Her patience was fast running thin and when it did run out, her snobbish attitude moved onto a higher level.

Her conceited and disdainful opinion spoke down to my colleagues. Her self-righteous points of view were correct in her head. She overlapped one hand on top of the other, with her fingers drumming the hand underneath. She stared off into nothing, indicating her annoyance.

Her eyes were filled with contempt, before I even spoke. I introduced myself and shook her hand lightly. Her limp and insincere handshake told me right off that she wasn't interested in anything I had to say. I asked what the problem was and made eye contact. When she did make contact it was telling me of the "torture" she was enduring. I let her finish talking before I addressed her issues.

She interrupted me on multiple occasions. I never showed her that disrespect.

I stated the facts regarding her problems and how we were trying to resolve them. I was honest saying that one of her issues were outside my control and there was nothing I could physically do. She just needed to be patient.

Then she started getting personal, telling me she knew more about my job than I clearly did. She knew about the perks of my job and the begrudgery in her face was evident.

She wasn't listening to my point of view and I knew that. She knew that we were trying our best, but she was so deep into her point of view that admitting she was wrong would have been detrimental to her argument. Her attitude stank to high heaven and she was adamant she was in the right. The people around her were embarrassed by her pompous and patronising demeanour. Their glances simply said "she's an eejit."

In the end, what we did worked and we didn't receive any thanks. Technology came to our aid and we left her well enough alone. Giving her more attention would feed her ego, confirming her beliefs.

As she left our company I sincerely wished her a "Happy Christmas." She looked down her pointy nose at me and gave me a look that may as well have said "you're beneath me."

I was professional and held her stare.

But inside I wanted to shout "Bah Humbug!!!!"













     

Thursday, 21 May 2015

Raid.
It was a last minute decision that felt right. Work didn’t need me for the following week and Sarah had the week off. A handful of internet keyboard strokes later and we were going on our summer holidays.
Frantic packing, reorganisation of tasks and madness ensued over the next twelve hours. Family or friends weren’t informed – we didn’t have time. Prioritising the important took its toll as neither of us really slept. Excitement and the potential of forgetting something blindingly obvious played a big part.
Living close to a big airport has benefits – especially when you’re taking a taxi for an early morning flight. You can rise, eat breakfast and then think about ringing for a cab. They’re with you fairly expediently.
The weather outside was dreadful – damp, dank and dark. I’m not sure if the Irish winter weather influenced my spontaneous decision the previous night – but both of us were giggling with excitement since we rose from our king sized bed.
As I closed the front door to our three bedroomed semi-detached home, the taxi beeped its horn rather loudly and impatiently. I don’t think the driver realised that both of us were already outside. I cursed him under my breath, fearing what my neighbours might think of such inconsideration.
The drizzle was causing havoc with Sarah’s straightened hair, so I ushered her into the car while I took care of the bags. He wasn’t getting out of the car to assist. I fumbled around in the dark, trying to locate the release for the boot of the twelve year old grey Japanese import. After almost ten seconds of getting soaked and feeling about for a lock, I heard a manual release unlock from inside the car.
Having placed the two wheelie bags in the boot, I took my rain relief in the front passenger seat. The first thing that greeted me were smart comments.
“Nice of you to join myself and this lovely lady! I hope that you’re not dripping all over my good leather!”
Not being in my usual negative morning humour, I ignored the barb and asked him to drive us to Terminal 2 in Dublin Airport. I could tell that Sarah, without her saying anything, didn’t like our driver. I could always tell by glancing at her facial expressions – she couldn’t hide contempt.
Within one minute, as the freshness of the air the rain brought into the car dissipated, I smelled old musty leather. It wasn’t the seats that we sat upon that stank, but that of the black leather jacket that our driver wore.
It was lived in. I’m not sure if he ever took it off. It had a pungent tinge of stale cigarettes, bad body odour and most importantly, alcohol. It was faint, but I was certain that it was whiskey of some sort. That smell had always stuck with me as my grandfather had a certain fondness for Powers Gold Label.
Having his picture in front of me on the dashboard, I noticed that he had a fine head of hair for a sixty-eight year old man. Something akin to Elvis with the hair slicked back and long, thick salt and pepper sideburns. Except this morning, his hair didn’t look as neatly coiffed as his photo. It was greasier and a bit matted near the base of his mullet. The cloth headrest of his seat told a similar story.
Neither myself nor Sarah entered easily into conversation with our driver, apart from the odd grunt or “yeah”. His negativity was eating fast into our early morning holiday buzz.
My wife is not a patient lady, especially when she’s confronted with ignorance or racism. On this five minute taxi ride, she encountered both. So she let fly with a volley of well informed opinions, telling him that we got a great deal online for a week in the Canary Islands. I smiled to myself as the last couple of minutes to the airport terminal were made in silence.
The fare came to E10.50 and I paid him exactly that. He wasn’t making any moves to help with the bags either – not that I expected it. Sarah was fuming and also a little elated with herself for shutting an ignorant man up.
Trying our best to forget about the ride into the airport, we proceeded into the building to self-check in. As we dropped our bags to the floor, Sarah realised it before I did. She had placed the passports on the table in the hallway – she had reminded me not to forget them.
We had almost an hour and twenty minutes before the flight was due to leave. That was another benefit of living close to an airport – if this type of thing happens, you have a chance to rectify the situation. If you live an hour away, forget about it.
I ran outside the terminal and jumped into the first available taxi. This taxi was modern and smelled fresh in comparison to our previous experience. The driver understood our predicament and drove swiftly in the light morning traffic. He was ultra professional and helpful, stating that he had done the exact same thing only a couple of years ago.
He pulled into our estate and I already had my front door keys in hand. I asked him to turn the car around as I knew where the passports were and would be out within a matter of seconds.
I saw a car similar to the first taxi two doors down, parked on the kerb with its wheels on the grass verge. It was pointed toward the exit of the estate. Its lights were off.
Running up to our front door I noticed that the kitchen light was on at the back of the house. Thinking that Sarah might have left it on by mistake, I quickly disregarded it.
Unlocking the lower front door lock, I saw the shape of the passports on the hall table through the stained glass. I took two quick seconds to step inside the threshold and grab them in my right hand. As I turned to exit, an inherent instinct told me to look up.
I looked toward the kitchen. The sliver of light emanating from the crack in the door revealed the briefest glimpse of a passing man.
With a matted mullet.
He was rifling through the drawers in the kitchen, upturning them onto the floor.
I hadn’t spooked him by opening the door. Retreating outside and closing the door quietly, I took out my phone. I rang the Police directly in Swords, giving them his name and taxi plate – of his piece of shit car.
I had the luxury of watching the Police enter my home, run upstairs and haul his opinionated ass off into custody. I made sure he didn’t spot me – I didn’t want him coming back for more knowing that I’d reported the incident.
The Police unofficially told me that the reason he had broken in was the fact I didn’t bother to tip him.
He had seen how quickly I had exited my front door in the rain and saw that I mistakenly, hadn’t set the alarm. He broke in by slipping through the side gate and kicking in the glass of our back door.
I missed my flight but caught a later one out that afternoon. I had to arrange for an emergency window fitting and made sure I set my alarm before leaving.
An idiot like this wasn’t going to ruin our last minute holiday buzz.