Steve Maskery
Established Member
This is long, so move on if you want.
If space had permitted, the title of this tale would have been:
Barcelona, robbery, police, British Consul, daylight robbery, gunmen and immigration
I've had a few days away with my mate Bob. I owe him big time for being an unpaid cameraman.
"When all this is over, I'll treat you to a few days away", says I. "Where would you like to go?"
Now Bob doesn't do holidays. A weekend at Centre Parcs with his music pals is his most exotic destination. "Paris or Barcelona", he says, jokingly.
"I don't like Paris, it's one big dog toilet, we'll go to Barcelona", says I. So, after factoring in months of Bob's gigs, off we went last Sunday.
Fantastic place, art everywhere, sunshine.
And thieves.
I had my handbag stolen while we were having a coffee. I didn't put it on the floor or over the back of my chair. I put it on the table in front of me where i could see it and the ******* still got it. Bag, hand-made embossed wallet. Sterling, Euros, PASSPORT, driving licence, spectacles, contact lens stuff.
I don't think I've ever been so angry. If I'd have caught him I would have committed murder and been proud of having done so.
The police were quite good, actually. I don't speak any Spanish (except that bit that sounds like Italian, and I don't speak a lot of that) but they provided an officer who spoke good English (his dad was from Coventry). They asked if we would recognize the thief, Would we look at some photos? It was a nasty collection of ne'er-do-wells, I can tell you, but we didn't spot our man. I asked the cop how many case like this her saw. 2 or 3? 20?, 50?. He laughed. 100, and not per day, just on his shift. I was just a statistic.
So that was 5 hours.
Next day we went to the British Consul. We had to wait while they dealt with a man who was trying to get back to England to give himself up, having been on the run for 7 years after pulling a gun on someone. He was just tired of hiding I think, and after being called as a witness in a murder trial in the US had decided he was too old for this game. He seemed like a regular bloke, actually, but it was certainly quite nerve-jangling being alone in a room with such a guy.
So we had the police report, and yes, I could get an Emergency Passport, valid for 48 hours, one way, single use, €74 plus photos. To get me into my own country.
At the airport, I met a lady who had had hers taken that day, so she had a police report but no emergency passport. She was Dutch, although she lived in Leamington Spa. She didn't know if they would let her in and had visions of being flown out to Amsterdam. She had €2 in her pocket and that was it.
She did get in, no problem, which leads me to ask, "Why on earth didn't the BC tell me I could get home without an Emergency Passport?". I'd have saved myself half a day and a fistful of squids.
The good things, such as they are out of all this, is that he didn't get my phone, or my nice new MP3 player, or my Festool pen, (nice writer - I was doing a crossword at the time). He didn't even get all my money, most of it was back in the apartment. He didn't get my Good Woodworking penknife, which has accompanied me around the world until the present paranoia. There was no violence involved and we did meet a couple of ladies from Ireland, mother and daughter, who were not so lucky. The daughter had been jumped upon and pinned to the ground. But she was a feisty lady and the bag was under her. The thief ran off and she kept her bag, although she was covered in bruises. My attack could have been like that or worse.
But there was a photo of SWMBO from before we were married, and a magazine clip about Ercol furniture, from an in-flight magazine C.1987, which was largely responsible for me being inspired to design my own furniture.
The insurance will pay up for most of it, but there is cap on the value and I'm pretty sure I'll be out of pocket.
Do you know what I'm saddest about? The perpetrator was North African, Moroccan, probably. After the event, I found my self looking at every dark face and being instantly suspicious. There were a lot "hanging around", clearly not working and they didn't look like tourists. I saw one clock my pocket on my thigh. One offered us hashish.
But one guy came up to us when we were studying a map and offered to help. He was a genuine guy (Spanish) and was trying to help, but I was immediately wary. I don't like distrusting people, and I'm annoyed with myself for having such thoughts about people based solely on their appearance and my recent experience. I have friends from all over the world, - India, Sweden, Germany, China, Middle East, crikey, there are even some Americans I call friends, that's how cosmo I am, but I was making judgements about people based on what they look like. I'm sorry about that.
That's it, I'm never leaving the house again. I should be at Stoneleigh today, but it just seems like too much bother
S
If space had permitted, the title of this tale would have been:
Barcelona, robbery, police, British Consul, daylight robbery, gunmen and immigration
I've had a few days away with my mate Bob. I owe him big time for being an unpaid cameraman.
"When all this is over, I'll treat you to a few days away", says I. "Where would you like to go?"
Now Bob doesn't do holidays. A weekend at Centre Parcs with his music pals is his most exotic destination. "Paris or Barcelona", he says, jokingly.
"I don't like Paris, it's one big dog toilet, we'll go to Barcelona", says I. So, after factoring in months of Bob's gigs, off we went last Sunday.
Fantastic place, art everywhere, sunshine.
And thieves.
I had my handbag stolen while we were having a coffee. I didn't put it on the floor or over the back of my chair. I put it on the table in front of me where i could see it and the ******* still got it. Bag, hand-made embossed wallet. Sterling, Euros, PASSPORT, driving licence, spectacles, contact lens stuff.
I don't think I've ever been so angry. If I'd have caught him I would have committed murder and been proud of having done so.
The police were quite good, actually. I don't speak any Spanish (except that bit that sounds like Italian, and I don't speak a lot of that) but they provided an officer who spoke good English (his dad was from Coventry). They asked if we would recognize the thief, Would we look at some photos? It was a nasty collection of ne'er-do-wells, I can tell you, but we didn't spot our man. I asked the cop how many case like this her saw. 2 or 3? 20?, 50?. He laughed. 100, and not per day, just on his shift. I was just a statistic.
So that was 5 hours.
Next day we went to the British Consul. We had to wait while they dealt with a man who was trying to get back to England to give himself up, having been on the run for 7 years after pulling a gun on someone. He was just tired of hiding I think, and after being called as a witness in a murder trial in the US had decided he was too old for this game. He seemed like a regular bloke, actually, but it was certainly quite nerve-jangling being alone in a room with such a guy.
So we had the police report, and yes, I could get an Emergency Passport, valid for 48 hours, one way, single use, €74 plus photos. To get me into my own country.
At the airport, I met a lady who had had hers taken that day, so she had a police report but no emergency passport. She was Dutch, although she lived in Leamington Spa. She didn't know if they would let her in and had visions of being flown out to Amsterdam. She had €2 in her pocket and that was it.
She did get in, no problem, which leads me to ask, "Why on earth didn't the BC tell me I could get home without an Emergency Passport?". I'd have saved myself half a day and a fistful of squids.
The good things, such as they are out of all this, is that he didn't get my phone, or my nice new MP3 player, or my Festool pen, (nice writer - I was doing a crossword at the time). He didn't even get all my money, most of it was back in the apartment. He didn't get my Good Woodworking penknife, which has accompanied me around the world until the present paranoia. There was no violence involved and we did meet a couple of ladies from Ireland, mother and daughter, who were not so lucky. The daughter had been jumped upon and pinned to the ground. But she was a feisty lady and the bag was under her. The thief ran off and she kept her bag, although she was covered in bruises. My attack could have been like that or worse.
But there was a photo of SWMBO from before we were married, and a magazine clip about Ercol furniture, from an in-flight magazine C.1987, which was largely responsible for me being inspired to design my own furniture.
The insurance will pay up for most of it, but there is cap on the value and I'm pretty sure I'll be out of pocket.
Do you know what I'm saddest about? The perpetrator was North African, Moroccan, probably. After the event, I found my self looking at every dark face and being instantly suspicious. There were a lot "hanging around", clearly not working and they didn't look like tourists. I saw one clock my pocket on my thigh. One offered us hashish.
But one guy came up to us when we were studying a map and offered to help. He was a genuine guy (Spanish) and was trying to help, but I was immediately wary. I don't like distrusting people, and I'm annoyed with myself for having such thoughts about people based solely on their appearance and my recent experience. I have friends from all over the world, - India, Sweden, Germany, China, Middle East, crikey, there are even some Americans I call friends, that's how cosmo I am, but I was making judgements about people based on what they look like. I'm sorry about that.
That's it, I'm never leaving the house again. I should be at Stoneleigh today, but it just seems like too much bother
S
