Sometimes I really hate people.

Hardly the first subject I wanted to approach in the personal section of my new blog, but something has happened today that has left me as irate as I have been since my return to the U.K..

Look at the state of my garden:

Now, I am not blaming anyone but myself for that; I have been slacking off of late. But today I was feeling quite 'gung-ho', and really wanted to get the sagging wire fencing down that allows the creepers and brambles to take hold.

You will notice the little 'greenhouse' I have at the bottom of the path...


After a brief survey of the area to see what it was that was necessary to complete this job I headed into said greenhouse to fetch my tools in order to set about the task ahead of me, only to find that some reprobate had - during the night - walked into my garden from the front of the property (there is no other entry point) and proceeded to the very end of it just to steal an old spade, garden fork and a rake. The greenhouse is not visible from the road; hence its location.

I was livid.

I am livid.

Some time last week, I suspect the same clowns took a couple of my largest pots, discarding the one that was not in great condition in the garden of a neighbour four or five houses down.

I couldn't be bothered to retrieve it.

When I moved in here last November, I had big plans for my garden. I wanted to grow fruit and vegetables, despite knowing that Treneerites were likely to come along and help themselves. I figured they would be at least civil enough to leave some for me.

Not so, it would appear. Far from being fair-minded about the whole thing, they have gone as far as relieving me of the entire means of production. So fuck 'em. They are not going to get any produce out of me.

The front of the property - it must be said - is almost an invitation to waltz right in at leisure. The gates do not lock, the wall is knee high and the state of repair would suggest I don't care. But I do care. I care a lot.

Thankfully, I have contents insurance that covers just this sort of eventuality, so I shall be able to replace them, even if I fear it is too late now to make any meaningful in-roads to urban horticulture this year. This, of course, means that I have to make a police report; which I have done.

Not that I feel that there is any chance of recovering the items, but because my insurance company will likely insist that I do so. Were I uninsured, I should have let it pass; chalking it up to experience. So finding that I can make a report online was a refreshing option for me.

A quarter of an hour later my report had been filed, and not an hour after that I received a phone call confirmation and a reference number for my insurer. She asked if I wanted to have the community police do a door-knock around the area. At first, I was reluctant to reply in the affirmative. What was the point, I thought. Upon further refelction, though, the idea appealed to me, so I said yes.

I live in a community of people who are likely similarly blighted by petty theft and other seemingly minor irritations, and the local police showing a presence around the area is hardly likely to do any harm. Indeed, informing the people they encounter that there is a garden lurker in the neighbourhood may illicit further information regarding other crimes that had previously gone unreported. The more crime that is reported here, the more likely it is that both the police and the residents will try and do something to stop it. There is also the distant possiblilty that someone saw something that could lead to my possessions being returned. I shall not be holding my breath, but it would be nice not to have to involve my insurers after having only been with them for one month.

On the whole I fear there is very little the police can do, but I must admit that even though my anger has yet to subside, I am soothingly pleased with the way the police have handled the issue so far. So if nothing else comes of it, then I cannot be surprised. But if something does come of it, then the boys and girls in blue will have gone up inexorably in my opinion. Given the fact that my property is already gone, the future is a draw-win situation for me.

Not to be outdone, I still mean to carry on with my gardening plans, but I must now consider defensive strategies against my foes.

I shall be welcoming a new neighbour to the flat below sometime this month, and he abhors gardening. Lucky little me gets to take on the entire patch, which means I can fortify the place against our oppressors. A large fence, full-size lockable gates and a secure shed are what my initial thoughts are leaning towards, but I have not ruled out the possibility of motion lamps and booby-traps.

All of this needs to be put into action before I can so much as consider landscaping the grounds properly. This is likely to cost Joe and I a lot of money, but I refuse to leave myself open to further hardship by not securing my property. What price one's security afterall?

For those who do not know me, it is impossible for you to realise just how this has affected me. I am sure you have all been victims of crime one time or another, but I suffer from a certain cognitive malais that makes it almost impossible for me to function on any level that might be deemed 'normal'.

Before getting my home, I lived in a hostel under very trying conditions, whose project workers seek to assist people with varying degrees of anti-social symptoms (be it alcohol, drugs, parole or mental incapacity) to set about returning back into the community on a more even keel. There have been some pretty 'hairy' moments, but the system has done (I hope) a very good job with me, although I still haven't dealt with my cognitive issues.

It is these issues that make today's events so difficult for me. I want to like people - but try as I might - the more I encounter, the more I hate them. I do not use the word 'hate' lightly either.

All I wanted to do was grow some peas.

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Have you ever been the victim of theft or burglary? Did you report it to the police? What happened?