Not funny, sorry
A couple of years ago I was living in a terraced house in Reading. I woke up one morning and made my way downstairs. There was a window halfway down the stairs looking out on to the driveway, and as I passed I glanced out, only to see my car was missing. Clearly the car’s been stolen; not unheard of round that area of the world, and more of an inconvenience than anything. I make my way down the remainder of the stairs ready to call the police, walk into the kitchen to discover the window broken open and stuff everywhere. The living room was much the same. Laptop, camera, Wii etc and obviously car keys had all been stolen. Someone had broken in overnight while I was asleep and cleaned me out of anything of any value.

The feeling that someone had been in my house while I was asleep just up the stairs freaked me out so much. Whoever it was could have easily walked up the stairs, opened my bedroom door, looked at me sleeping; I’d probably have been none the wiser until they decided to bludgeon me to death. I still can’t believe I didn’t know there was someone there in my house. It’s so frighteningly easy for someone to get into your house and take your stuff, I just have to count myself lucky that that was all my burglars were after. The episode preceded a nice dose of depression and sped my departure from Reading.

In other news, Marc Almond also gives me the heeby-jeebies.
(G-Lo, Fri 8 Apr 2011, 20:40, Reply)