Was on the blower to Maureen's husband John last night and it seems his car was stolen a couple of weeks ago. He'd parked it outside their bungalow and it sounds as if someone got into the house during the day, took the car keys and waited until night fell before driving off in it. Fortunately the insurance has paid out without any kind of fight but having had houses I lived in in Sheffield burgled no fewer than three times I can tell you it's an odd feeling when someone makes off with one or more of your possessions.
Reminds me of when my old pal Simon had his car nicked on a street in Manchester one night after he'd given us all a lift to the pub. We stood around the spot where the vehicle had been parked in a state of semi-disbelief as if it would somehow materialise again if we stared hard enough. It didn't.
Now I think of it, I really hate that sort of petty theft because it's anything but petty to those on the receiving end. It's a good job I'm not a magistrate, or judge: I suspect there'd be precious little mercy in my courtroom.