Hardened Criminal Part 2

I'm writing this blog post on a Sunday. It's for posting on a Monday but it's being written on a Sunday. I just thought I'd let you know that, so you can attempt to figure out, while you read it, why I felt the need to point it out. It must be relevant to the post in some way right? Ooh, mysterious...

I'm a little lost off with where I am in my life story at the minute, what with diversions to talk about all the women I perv o... I mean talk to, on twitter and to have a bit of a dig at my libelous brother and of course jumping ahead to the days of bicycle beatings, but I'm gonna try to get things back on track this week. Maybe.

Lots of members of my family are criminals. Reformed criminals, to be fair, but at the time that I'm writing about now, that part hadn't happened yet. As a result, it was something of a foregone conclusion that I too would enter the family business of taking what belonged to other people and making it mine, whether they liked it or not. I think there's a name for that, but I can't quite think of it.

Now, I'd like to tell you that the thought made me distraught, and that I tried everything in my power to avoid the icy grip of a life of crime, but that my familial connections made it impossible and I was dragged back every time I tried to crawl away. I'd like to tell you that, but I can't. I didn't resist. It didn't even occur to me to resist. This is just what people in my family did.

A couple of minor shoplifting occurrences and the taking of a bottle of tippex from the receptionists desk at the opticians; I was quite proud of getting away with that one; were my only offences until the day one of my Uncles, who shall remain nameless so as not to incriminate the, er, guilty, decided that the time was ripe for me to go on my first burglary. Exciting stuff!

The allotted night didst swift arrive, and we set off, clad all in black, to the local comprehensive school. I'd been there often, because we would sometimes kick a ball around on their fields at the weekends, and cutting through their grounds was a good shortcut to the river on a hot day. I had never actually been inside though. Until now. My little heart was all aflutter on the way there; even the torrential rain couldn't dampen my spirits. 

Unc insisted on going the long way around and approaching from the woods, which I felt was a bit of a waste of time but what did I know, I was 10. Still though, it was a bloody long walk.  Anyway, we came up on the school, he did something very clever to a window and hey presto, we were in. At which point he lay on his belly on the floor and slithered away like a snake. Which made me laugh.

See, I'm not an expert on these things but I'm pretty certain he may have been watching a few too many movies. It was a school for crying out loud. What kind of security system did he think we were dealing with here?

But anyway... We were in a large kitchen with loads of desks in the middle. I assumed it was for cookery classes but I learned later that that was a gross inaccuracy; it was a Home Economics/Food Technologies lab. Shows what I know.

The whole thing was destined to go tits up, of course, because I was involved so how could it not? Alarms went off and we were out of there, except he was damned if he was going empty handed so he waited until I was out then threw a microwave out to me. Which I dropped.

Then he was out and we were running; with him carrying the microwave because he didn't trust me; and we get... to the corner of the fence, whereupon I slip on my arse in the mud and can't get up. (See, cos I said earlier there was rain? That's foreshadowing and shit, that is.)

I manage to pick myself up eventually and we head into the woods. We hide the microwave for retrieval the next day, because he doesn't want to be seen on the streets with it, and then we head home. The long way around, of course.

The odd thing about the whole incident is that on the night in question my Unc was stressed, angry, blaming me for screwing up and panicking like a motherfunter. Yet, within days, the story was that he had deliberately set the alarms off and made a hash of things, in order to 'scare me straight'. Ha, nice cover job son, but I know the truth!

We went back and got the microwave the next day. It didn't work. A damning indictment of our schools funding? Or because I dropped it in a puddle? YOU decide!

So there you go, the night that my criminal career escalated, and pretty much peaked. I'm not saying that was the last time I ever nicked anything, but it was all petty rubbish and it didn't last long.

Oh, and if you're wondering, the reason I mentioned writing this on Sunday to post on Monday and asked you to figure out why it was relevant was... to see if you would try to work out why it was relevant as you read the post. Did you? Go on, tell me you did.