This is my back door after last night's attempted break-in. There were people in the house, too - upstairs - as it occurred between 10 and 12pm. The door is double-glazed so luckily only the outside glass is broken and I don't have a howling gale blowing into the house.
I had to go the the gendarmes this morning to declare what had happened, and got a right jolly chap who told me he was Spanish, and why did their wretched computer have my nationality down as 'Royaume Uni' rather than Britannique... and if the big heads in Paris just spent a bit more time on the terrain they might have more idea about how to label nationalities... I think he thought I might think they were a bunch of ploucs for having such idiotic mislabelling, and that I would assume it was down to the local gendarmerie who knew no better.
So now I know that it is the ploucs in Paris who are the idiots and put Français for the French, but Royaume Uni for the Brits.
Anyway, having sufficiently railed against the Powers that Be, he took my deposition which I signed and, as I went out, said that he hoped we'd meet again but under different circumstances. I replied cheerily because it's best not to offend those who are responsible for one's safety.
I'm not sure why the hole is down at the bottom of the door. These days, the official norm for door glass is to make it very tough, so kicking it would have been impossible unless you had on a steel-capped boot I suppose. The gendarme asked if there was a stone lying about. There are stones all over the garden including big ones because I live on a hill that was formally either a vineyard or a pine wood, so poor soil and very rocky.
There are also garden tools about and the general mess that you get when you have two boys doing their utmost to render any attempt at graciousness inside or out pointless by leaving stuff everywhere.
Then I thought it might be Ulysse who was trying to make a cat-flap. I questioned him closely with lots of snuggles to lure him into a false sense of security, but all he did was ask for more food and nag to go out. Still, my bet is on him...
Gosh Sara - you poor thing! It's horrible when that happens. It's happened to me twice - some collègiens climbed through my girls' bedroom window. I think they were a bit disappointed though when all they found was piles of dirty knickers, old mascara wands and bowls of dried-up cereal...:-)ReplyDelete
I love that cartoon!
C'est affreux que ca peut se passer dans un p'tit village du Midi.ReplyDelete
The gendarme came round yesterday to have a look - the same one who took my deposition. He didn't do any finger-printing or anything else of a technical nature, but did have a nice chat about footie with my youngest...ReplyDelete