I was at the funeral today of a wonderful fit young man of 88 who lived life well and taught others to live that way too.

A packed church with a spectrum of generations present. Some having travelled quite some distance to pay their respects but each of us with our own fabulous stories about him.

Growing up in a small country village with a close community means that we’re all one big family. As children we could go off on our bikes with a sandwich and 2p for a phone box. We could be gone from first light until dusk. We’d join up with other children from the valley and respective parents enroute would note when we passed or call our parents to say we’d been spotted.  It also meant that there’s not a lot that you can do without someone knowing about it!  Even at my ‘ahem’ young age, I’ve seen (and babysat) children who have now grown up to be adults with children themselves!

Despite being the sad occasion of Charlie’s passing, it was a joy to meet up with people who I’ve not seen since childhood or others that remember me as a child! One such person reminded me how proud my Father had been when I was interviewed, at the age of 15 for the BBC News in 1982 – I don’t recall it but apparently the whole valley had seen it and apparently became my Father’s ‘proud Father party-piece’ for many months afterward!

Charles Gray had lived his full life in Hambleden, as had many many Gray generations before him. His only time away had been during the war. Fortunately for us and the wider world, Charlie was persuaded to write his memories down and in 2003 a book was published “Born on Chiltern Slopes”. A fascinating book to those who know Hambleden but also those interested in a period of time and a country setting. On the back of the book is this:

“The author Charles Gray is a true countryman much loved in the village of his birth. His contribution to the community life in Hambleden has been extensive, prolonged and it continues. Although a prize winner at school he started work locally at 14 finally retiring from a company directorship at 69. All his life he has participated fully in village life, first as a young and talented sportsman, scoutmaster, then becoming president of the cricket club, chairman of he village sports club, school governor and churchwarden. After war service overseas he returned to marry the young district nurse. His entire life has been focused on the picturesque village of Hambleden set in a beautiful valley in the Chiltern Hills. In this book he reminisces affectionately over bygone times. He and his wife still lead extraordinarily active lives.”

A fitting service but even more poignant was the Committal followed by the hearse being driven through the village square, over the bridge and out of the village.  The square, roadway and pathways were lined with people saying farewell as Charlie left Hambleden for the final time.

If you’ve been fortunate enough to never have been burgled you perhaps won’t understand the feeling that you have when you discover that someone ‘unknown’ has been through your possessions and taken the most valuable and often the most sentimental too.

I recall clearly driving up the M4 on my return from the Penny Brohn Cancer Care Centre. I recall feeling invigorated and ready to face the world. A world without Tish. But also a world that I had in mind I needed to rediscover. A feeling that I should venture back outside my front door, embrace and move on. Ready to look for new relationships and also go back to paid employment. I felt, although this sounds daft, like a Phoenix rising. On my drive home, I worked out what next. How I was going to attack some of the tasks I’d decided to undertake. What to do? When to do it? Who to speak to? For the first time in quite a while I felt positive. I was also longing to get into my bed (always freshly made with new bedlinen ready for my return from a break – a little OCD but there are worst things than making up your bed before going away so it’s ready for your return!).

When I got home and opened the door into the hallway, I knew instantly that someone had been in. My bedroom door was open. I always close it when I leave. Nobody had been due to visit. Nobody had keys. I knew something was wrong.

I first walked into my bedroom. They’d been through everything. Clearly they’d taken their time. Clearly they knew I wouldn’t be home. Every drawer, every cupboard, every box has been tipped up and the contents pillaged. Every handbag and purse had been rifled for money.

I felt sick. Terrified that they were still in my home. Violated. All that enthusiasm I’d felt on the drive home was gone… in an instant.

How could someone come in and go through my possessions with a complete disregard for my feelings?

The police were brilliant. They arrived quickly but were shocked at the state of my home. Whilst trying to reassure me they also told me that this was the worst they had seen.

I called a friend and went to stay on their sofa. I couldn’t even get to my bed for everything that was strewn over it. I didn’t sleep and was back early in the morning for the police to come back and search for fingerprints and clues.

It was also very difficult to work out what was taken as so much was out of place. Lots of empty boxes and disturbed possessions throughout my home. It took ages for me to work it out. The part that really destroyed me was that they had been through a lot of Mum’s things. Possessions that I’d not really taken the time to look at or open the boxes yet as they all held such memories for me.

My office was in as much of a state as my bedroom. My computer gone. All the work I’d put into my charity work disappeared with the computer they had. Notes and research about Phyllodes and cancer. Yes I had a backup which they managed not to steal but nowhere to put it back on to and not complete.

All the plans I’d made to move on with my life taken from me.

It’s funny. A lot of people said ‘at least you were insured’ and ‘a quick way to downsize your possessions’. Both good points but insurance is only good if you’re replacing things that you don’t care about and that they CAN be replaced. Some of the possessions were irreplaceable.

I wanted to move on. But with every turn felt stuck until things were replaced, sorted and I didn’t feel as if ‘they’ had touched everything. A friend came over helped me sort out and clean my home. I also can’t sleep. Every sound at night and I was up checking outside, looking through windows and doors.

I’m also so angry. More when I was informed that they think it was one of my ‘neighbours’ who’d done it. I remember seeing him loitering on the street corner a few days before. He knew that I’d gone away. He probably watched me put my bags in the car. He would have seen me dressed in black heading off to Tish’s funeral. How dare he?

I need to move on. But how do I leave my home without worrying about it? How do I return without that sick feeling as I open the front door? How do I sleep through noises?

‘They’ don’t just take possessions when they burgle you. They take so much more…

UPDATE: It took months to sort out and find out what was gone. The insurance company took over 9 months to eventually settle the claim. Not that any of it was in dispute but because it apparently was too difficult for them to find comparable items… for cameras, computers and phones… so I found that I had to do the hard work for them and my poor insurance broker spent an inordinate amount of his time chasing them.

I live in London.  A part of London that has a wonderful community.  I’m blessed with neighbours that look out for me and are always kind enough to take in parcels when I’m away or watch out for anything suspicious… a rare event!

However just after 5am today I disturbed someone attempting to get into my property.  I had not long been up for a wee (probably too much information but hey!) and was just drifting back to sleep when I heard a scuffling noise.  I can recall thinking ‘oh it’s OK, it must be FoxyLoxy playing in the garden’ (I have a friendly fox that chills out in my garden or plays with balls and shoes that he finds!).  After a few seconds I realised that the noise was coming from the front of the house and not the garden.  With uber trepidation I opened the bedroom door and could see shadows of two people crouching down outside my front door.  Not sure what my heartrate was doing but worried that they could hear it from outside I stood stock still and gathered my thoughts and what to do.  Do I dial 999 and have to hope they’re not through the door before he police get here?  Do I open the door and confront them (hey I’m pretty scary at the time of the morning)?  Do scream and hope that the noise I make is more than a girly whisper?  Then I remembered that the front door is alarmed and all I needed to do was get to the front door to set it off.  Phew I managed it and they scarpered PDQ.

Then I called the police.  The police were here within a few minutes and did a drive around to see if they could see the intruders loitering anywhere.  Sadly they didn’t find anyone.

I’m thankful for my new security door.  How bloody dare they attempt to break in whilst we sleep in our beds in our own homes surrounded by possessions we’ve worked for?