THE JEWEL THIEVES

I grew up in an area that might have been considered to be one of the “nicer” parts of town.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t one of the poshest parts, or anything like that, but neither was it one of those areas where, as Paul Simon might have put it where “You should not wander after dark...”

Still, it was pleasant enough and, since I moved away a couple of decades ago, it has become one of “those” areas where people really want to live which means that I won’t ever be able to afford to move back there, possibly because my return might cause house prices to plummet once more.

However, as areas go, it is one of those places much loved by the once-affluent middle-classes, as we used to think of such people. There are occasional markets of the kind much enjoyed by people who like their artisan bread fresh baked, and a number of bistros and cafés of a pleasantly exclusive style, and there are even some of the kinds of small shops which are busily closing in high streets up and down the realm.

I still return there from time-to-time not least because my mother still lives in a flat in that part of town but also because I still go to the same Dental Surgery as I did when I was younger and the haircutting emporium I visit every so often to hack back the insanity of my hair and restore me to something resembling a civilised human being is also in that part of town.

In fact, having a much-needed haircut was the very reason that I was in the area that evening, and whilst going for a haircut might seem a little pointless when you’re getting as old as I am, it still is a necessary side effect of still being a living, breathing human being, so there you go.

So there I was, back in the place I grew up in, strolling around with some time to kill and pondering upon how things had changed since what we might like to think of as being “my” day and thinking about how it was still a nice enough place, despite suffering from that mild sense of shabbiness that you get in any place where humans live if you look too closely.

Anyway, I arrived early and, because I had some spare time, I popped into the rather lovely little second hand charity book shop that’s sprung up next to the place where I used to buy post-night-in-the-pub burgers when such things were what I did.

Rather alarmingly, almost immediately I ran into an old school “friend” who was lurking within, who greeted me warmly and told me tales of having been in touch with people with names that I’d long-forgotten about, at least one of which I suspected to have died.

I didn’t have a clue who he was, of course, although he obviously recognised me. Thinking about it later, I came to think that he might have been called Simon, but as I’ve not leapt upon the old school photographs to check, I don’t suppose I’ll ever be 100% sure about that…

As well as mentioning someone I’d thought might be dead, he also someone else who I fell out with twenty years ago, so a number of dark memories were being stirred when this happened…

The manager rushed in to the shop and shouted to the lady on the till that she should ring the police as the jewellers across the street was being broken into right NOW!!!

The loud crashing sounds that I suddenly had become very aware of were indeed coming from somewhere beyond my line of sight where a fairly unsuccessful attempt was being made to smash the armour plated glass and grab the items on display.

For the next five minutes, everything got a bit tense, and I picked up a book which I’d previously decided not to buy, rather than risking going outside and becoming some kind of “collateral damage” in the unfolding melee.

I wasn’t able to buy the book immediately, of course, because the lady on the till was still hanging on the phone waiting to be put through to the police and tell them that a crime was in progress “right now…!”

Later on this would lead to much tutting and remarks like “Isn’t it incredible?” as I finally purchased the book - an excellent late 1950s volume about silent film which is something I’m becoming increasingly aware has become a bit of a forgotten and unloved art form nowadays - just because I felt sorry for everyone…

No doubt, now that I have access to this book of delights, I shall be sharing some of the things I have gleaned from its pages with you at some point.

The police did finally scream up in a number of cars about five minutes after the perpetrators had disappeared, and later on, after my haircut was done, I had to walk back past the shop and I noticed the shattered, broken but unpenetrated glass and the crime scene tape and the number of people standing and looking as if it had been the most exciting thing to happen in those parts for many a long year.

Like I said, nice part of town…