They always say you appreciate something more when it's gone. Some lightfingered soul pinched my bike and trackpump from my garage on Sunday night, leaving me in more distress over how to do the journeys I need to cover this week, than over the loss of the bike itself.
Although it was only 3 years old, we've covered quite a bit of ground together. No great journeys, but lots of little ones, across the heath to work, on the train to and around Dorchester and Bournemouth for work, and many times to the allotment, sailing and meetings around Poole.
And the simplest of things. Yesterday I had to go to Dorchester for work, and I'd forgotten that I had also promised to go to a GP surgery in Poundbury to help sort a problem out. Easy and quick to pop over on the bike, but bit of a long trudge by foot. Today I was up early for a long train journey to Cambridge, and walking to the station, misjudged and arrived for the train before the one I intended (and was meeting a colleague on). And for the rest of the week, my plans for cycling to work and evening meetings in the promised heatwave are now dashed.
Its so inconvenient. I can afford the loss, the insurance may pay out, but the logistics and distress are the bigger issue. There is violation of space. Someone avaricious sneaking around, dismissing most of my junk, but seeking which of my things they can turn into their cash. And probably at such a poor rate of return, compared to the hassle and cost this causes me.
Momentarily despair of folk, of spending my time trying to make my corner of the world a better place for people such as this. If it were my car, there would be so much more that the police could and would do, but my prime mode of green transport doesn't register beyond 'another one' on their radar.