We celebrated Anna's birthday today. Given that most people - older people anyway - don't like getting older, I'm bemused that any of us want to celebrate the only day in the year that we get older … more logical, I muse, to celebrate every other day of the year we don't get older.
Anna remarked, as she sipped her birthday champagne, munched her birthday chocolate and opened another birthday present, that this is the first birthday she's had, since 2003, that is in the same house as the previous year.
The last time I had a birthday in the same house as the year before was in 2000 … what wanderers we are! It must be time to move again … ah, I just remembered that we're moving up to Oxfordshire in 1½ weeks. Whew! Just had the scary thought of staying still for a moment and felt quite overcome with dread! I can relax again …
So, what changes are going on for Mary Collins? Story continued from previous blog ...
Mary knew the situation was dire, that she was in danger, that these thugs could harm her, that they could smash the place and that she had absolutely no idea what to do next - bluff was only going to work for so long, until one of these mutton-heads lost their cool. Maybe this was how ordinary people became brave people, she pondered, while frantically searching her little grey cells for a way out. Maybe situations just became too overwhelming, too surreal, for them to be fully absorbed by the rational brain and so the irrational one kicks in and the unexpected happens. However, this time, nothing else kicked in - Mary was still confronted by two knuckle-dragging pea brains, intent on taking something from the building that didn't exist in the building.
She could, of course, employ the karate-chopping skills of Toby but that would only delay the inevitable - they'd have friends (though, why anyone would want to be friends with twerps like these she could not fathom) and the next wave of rampaging Neanderthals would be worse. Violence never solved violence. Violence only perpetuated itself and she was intent only on transforming their violent intent into something softer or, at the least, to deflecting their violence in another direction, in the way that Toby had explained the basic techniques of his martial art - not stopping their force but turning it either sideways or back on them.
In the split second these conversations with herself went on, nothing much else happened. She waited, they waited and Toby sat serenely behind his high desk, blithely doing something that looked important. As her mind was churning over these bewildering little things, some being took control of her mouth and spoke.
"So, are you two armed," Mary asked, "knives, guns, you know?"
"Uh, yeah …" said Shorty.
"NO!" said Crewcut.
"Oh, no," said Shorty.
"Watcha say that for?" said Crewcut.
"What?" said Shorty.
"Say you had gear?" said Crewcut.
"Oh, dunno, it just came out." said Shorty.
Mary could see that Toby was concentrating very hard on his paperwork and his shoulders were shaking.
"We don't gotta say we got gear, right!" said Crewcut.
"Oh yeah, I forgot," said Shorty.
"Right, so lady, we're not armed," said Crewcut, straightening himself up to his full six foot four.
"We haven't?" asked Shorty.
"No we haven't!" said Crewcut, turning on Shorty.
Mary could hear giggling and saw Toby had tears streaming from his eyes as he could contain himself no longer. It was infectious and Mary started giggling which got Toby going even louder. As he doubled over with laughter, the two intruders looked at each other, confused and then in anger.
"This is not bloody funny!" said Crewcut.
"No, you guys in trouble here," said Shorty, reaching into his belt and pulling out a knife. He held it with the blade down as if to plunge it into something.
"You're not going to hurt anyone holding it like that," said Toby, slowly recovering from his laughing fit and coming round to the front of his desk.
"Oh yes I am … I could," said Shorty.
"Oh no you won't," said Toby. "You see, my ribs are overlapped, like planks on the side of a ship, and if you chop down, the knife will just bounce down my ribs. Here, let me show you." He held out his hand.
"Uh … oh, yeah, OK," said Shorty, taken aback by the surrealism of the moment. He handed his knife to Toby who held it with the blade facing up.
"See, if I go at you this way, it won't bounce down your ribs but will go up between them," said Toby lunging at Shorty and stopping millimetres from his ribcage. Shorty's elbows went up and he took a deep breath, immobilised. Crewcut immediately reached into the back of his belt, fumbled around and a pistol clattered to the floor. Toby, quick as a flash, kicked it across the floor to Mary.
"Don't pick it up, Mary - fingerprints!" said Toby. "Kick it behind my desk! Quick!"
Mary's body reacted quicker than her brain and obeyed Toby's instructions to the letter. Crewcut turned to chase after his gun.
"One move and this knife moves an inch and pierces your friend's heart!" yelled Toby, at Crewcut, who realised Toby had not moved the knife from Shorty's body. Crewcut seemed as paralysed as his friend.
"Wadda I do now?" asked Shorty in a squeaky voice.
"Drop that knife!" came a voice from nowhere and then Mary realised two policemen had come out of the lift, into the corridor.
"Not till you hand-cuff these men," said Toby calmly.
"Drop that knife, young man," repeated one of the policemen, advancing up the corridor. "You're trespassing and you're under arrest for assault."
"I work here, you wallop!" said Toby. These crazies are the trespassers. Now hand-cuff them than - what are you waiting for?"
"How do we know whose assaulting who, Sarge?" asked the second policeman.
"Uh, I … I'm not sure," said number one.
"We damned well work here, you irks," said Toby. "You think we dress in collar and tie to attack people in an office where people wear bovver boots and camo gear? Come on, cuff them. NOW!"
"Uh, yes sir," said number one, leaping forward. "You, sir, are under arrest. Do not move!" Shorty had not moved a muscle for over a minute and remained scarecrow-like. "Get your hands down, behind your back!"
"But you said don't move …" said Shorty plaintively.
"Well, move your hands, clever clogs!" said number one. "NOW!"
Mary wondered who had the lowest IQ - the burglars or the police - and quickly decided it was a dead-heat. She and Toby promised to come down to give their statements, within the half hour and Crewcut and Shorty were led off, still mumbling at each other.
Over a cup of very strong coffee in Mary's office, she and Toby worked out a battle plan to deal with the Atkinson file once and for all. It has started out so simply, this little insurance claim and now it was growing like a nuclear bomb on the horizon … and the horizon was closing in fast. Decisive action was needed.
Anna remarked, as she sipped her birthday champagne, munched her birthday chocolate and opened another birthday present, that this is the first birthday she's had, since 2003, that is in the same house as the previous year.
The last time I had a birthday in the same house as the year before was in 2000 … what wanderers we are! It must be time to move again … ah, I just remembered that we're moving up to Oxfordshire in 1½ weeks. Whew! Just had the scary thought of staying still for a moment and felt quite overcome with dread! I can relax again …
So, what changes are going on for Mary Collins? Story continued from previous blog ...
Mary knew the situation was dire, that she was in danger, that these thugs could harm her, that they could smash the place and that she had absolutely no idea what to do next - bluff was only going to work for so long, until one of these mutton-heads lost their cool. Maybe this was how ordinary people became brave people, she pondered, while frantically searching her little grey cells for a way out. Maybe situations just became too overwhelming, too surreal, for them to be fully absorbed by the rational brain and so the irrational one kicks in and the unexpected happens. However, this time, nothing else kicked in - Mary was still confronted by two knuckle-dragging pea brains, intent on taking something from the building that didn't exist in the building.
She could, of course, employ the karate-chopping skills of Toby but that would only delay the inevitable - they'd have friends (though, why anyone would want to be friends with twerps like these she could not fathom) and the next wave of rampaging Neanderthals would be worse. Violence never solved violence. Violence only perpetuated itself and she was intent only on transforming their violent intent into something softer or, at the least, to deflecting their violence in another direction, in the way that Toby had explained the basic techniques of his martial art - not stopping their force but turning it either sideways or back on them.
In the split second these conversations with herself went on, nothing much else happened. She waited, they waited and Toby sat serenely behind his high desk, blithely doing something that looked important. As her mind was churning over these bewildering little things, some being took control of her mouth and spoke.
"So, are you two armed," Mary asked, "knives, guns, you know?"
"Uh, yeah …" said Shorty.
"NO!" said Crewcut.
"Oh, no," said Shorty.
"Watcha say that for?" said Crewcut.
"What?" said Shorty.
"Say you had gear?" said Crewcut.
"Oh, dunno, it just came out." said Shorty.
Mary could see that Toby was concentrating very hard on his paperwork and his shoulders were shaking.
"We don't gotta say we got gear, right!" said Crewcut.
"Oh yeah, I forgot," said Shorty.
"Right, so lady, we're not armed," said Crewcut, straightening himself up to his full six foot four.
"We haven't?" asked Shorty.
"No we haven't!" said Crewcut, turning on Shorty.
Mary could hear giggling and saw Toby had tears streaming from his eyes as he could contain himself no longer. It was infectious and Mary started giggling which got Toby going even louder. As he doubled over with laughter, the two intruders looked at each other, confused and then in anger.
"This is not bloody funny!" said Crewcut.
"No, you guys in trouble here," said Shorty, reaching into his belt and pulling out a knife. He held it with the blade down as if to plunge it into something.
"You're not going to hurt anyone holding it like that," said Toby, slowly recovering from his laughing fit and coming round to the front of his desk.
"Oh yes I am … I could," said Shorty.
"Oh no you won't," said Toby. "You see, my ribs are overlapped, like planks on the side of a ship, and if you chop down, the knife will just bounce down my ribs. Here, let me show you." He held out his hand.
"Uh … oh, yeah, OK," said Shorty, taken aback by the surrealism of the moment. He handed his knife to Toby who held it with the blade facing up.
"See, if I go at you this way, it won't bounce down your ribs but will go up between them," said Toby lunging at Shorty and stopping millimetres from his ribcage. Shorty's elbows went up and he took a deep breath, immobilised. Crewcut immediately reached into the back of his belt, fumbled around and a pistol clattered to the floor. Toby, quick as a flash, kicked it across the floor to Mary.
"Don't pick it up, Mary - fingerprints!" said Toby. "Kick it behind my desk! Quick!"
Mary's body reacted quicker than her brain and obeyed Toby's instructions to the letter. Crewcut turned to chase after his gun.
"One move and this knife moves an inch and pierces your friend's heart!" yelled Toby, at Crewcut, who realised Toby had not moved the knife from Shorty's body. Crewcut seemed as paralysed as his friend.
"Wadda I do now?" asked Shorty in a squeaky voice.
"Drop that knife!" came a voice from nowhere and then Mary realised two policemen had come out of the lift, into the corridor.
"Not till you hand-cuff these men," said Toby calmly.
"Drop that knife, young man," repeated one of the policemen, advancing up the corridor. "You're trespassing and you're under arrest for assault."
"I work here, you wallop!" said Toby. These crazies are the trespassers. Now hand-cuff them than - what are you waiting for?"
"How do we know whose assaulting who, Sarge?" asked the second policeman.
"Uh, I … I'm not sure," said number one.
"We damned well work here, you irks," said Toby. "You think we dress in collar and tie to attack people in an office where people wear bovver boots and camo gear? Come on, cuff them. NOW!"
"Uh, yes sir," said number one, leaping forward. "You, sir, are under arrest. Do not move!" Shorty had not moved a muscle for over a minute and remained scarecrow-like. "Get your hands down, behind your back!"
"But you said don't move …" said Shorty plaintively.
"Well, move your hands, clever clogs!" said number one. "NOW!"
Mary wondered who had the lowest IQ - the burglars or the police - and quickly decided it was a dead-heat. She and Toby promised to come down to give their statements, within the half hour and Crewcut and Shorty were led off, still mumbling at each other.
Over a cup of very strong coffee in Mary's office, she and Toby worked out a battle plan to deal with the Atkinson file once and for all. It has started out so simply, this little insurance claim and now it was growing like a nuclear bomb on the horizon … and the horizon was closing in fast. Decisive action was needed.
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