I'm fine thank you and you?

Yesterday I left my keys in the front door. This was not deliberate. I never usually leave my keys anywhere other than my pockets or the little basket by the phone. Anyway, I arrived at school playing pocket billiards like usual – but something was amiss. My keys were not with me.

I sat at my desk in a state of mild anxiety. The keys were either at home in the basket, the pocket of some discarded trousers or in the lock of the front door. I suspected the latter. I asked a colleague whether I needed to worry – his answer did not immediately put me at ease.

“Hahahaha . . . 大丈夫ですよ,” he said.
(Hahahaha . . . daijoubu desu yo − don’t worry about it, no worries etc).

I wanted to say, “What the fuck are you laughing at? Don’t you know that in London if you left your keys in the lock some rapscallion would come and ransack your house, eat all your Coco Pops and then wait for you to come back from work before raping you in front of the mirror?” Instead I thanked him and breathed deeply, safe in the knowledge that my breakfast cereal was safe from defilement.

My family’s house was burgled on the eve of my 15th birthday. The N64, some cornflakes, instant coffee (Nescafe Gold Blend no less), a tub of margarine, and the hotels and houses from the chocolate monopoly set were stolen. I was awoken by my dad and a policewoman checking my window for signs of intrusion. My initial thoughts were for the contents of my bedside table. “Shit! My weed, my weed! How the fuck . . . shit!” I quickly regained my composure though. “mmmhumm blaaaoeur . . . What seems to be the trouble officer? Oh really? That is a shame. And on one’s birthday. Oh well. I hope you catch the bas . . . yes good night.”

After a day spent enlightening the minds of the youth of Japan and a couple more games of pocket billiards I went home. My keys were in the lock – swinging gently in the breeze. My house had not been ransacked. I had cereal and a glass of orange juice for breakfast today.