We woke up this morning to discover that some bastard (or collective of bastards) had nicked our car.
I rose just after 7 as usual and came downstairs to give Jamie and Charlotte their breakfast. And I noticed nothing unusual, before returning upstairs. (I'm often not the sharpest of tools).
It was around 20 minutes later that Vanessa looked out of the front window and spotted that our wheels were no longer with us.
A quick bit of amateur detective work soon revealed that our uninvited house guests had broken the lock on our patio door before entering the dining room. They then helped themselves to the car keys, Vanessa's purse, the watch my mum bought me for my 40th birthday, cash from my wallet and a few other bits before making their escape. (A police camera detected a licence plate match in Bradford early this morning, but there's been no news since).
They chucked Jamie and Charlotte's booster seats out of the window on the way. They were returned to us by our friend and local policeman James after being found by a kindly neighbour.
James is a top bloke and the fact that he just happened to be the duty officer was a huge help at a testing time.
The forensics boys were next on the scene and, again, two fine men they were.
And last in the supportive queue was Miles from MJR Security and Glazing in nearby Rawdon to repair and change our locks. Another real pro and good guy.
I don't know if you've ever had the misfortune to be burgled, I do hope not, but this is my third such experience. And on each occasion, the boys and girls in uniform have been fantastic. They often have a tough time of it, but they'll always have my full support.
This is in stark contrast to the pond life who broke into our home, took our things and stole our car. I can't help but wonder what makes them tick. I could say that I feel sorry for them, but I don't because they don't feel sorry for people like you and me who play by the rules.
Thankfully there's a lot more of us than there are of them. And that's the important bit.