Week 16: Key Worker Crips

“On my Mum’s I will!”

”Nah mate, you’re chatting shit!”

”I will. Got me key!”

I’m awoken at 1.20am by BT (Boy Teenager), standing in my bedroom, naked as the day he was born, hiding his vernaculars with his hand. He looks scared.

”What’s up fella?”

”There’s some lads walking down the avenue daring each other to key cars, and I just heard a nasty metal scraping noise. I think it might have been your car Dad! What are we going to do? Call the police?”

Wait a minute, this Urban Key Worker Crew are SCRATCHING MY CAR? I’m out of bed faster than Gin (so called because she single-handedly has kept the UK’s craft distillers in business for the lock-down period) can pour out and swallow a double. I peer out of the bedroom window just as three lads amble into view. They stop in the middle of the road, facing the house opposite, pointing and debating. Being Key Workers I expect they are discussing the merits of wearing PPE. At 1.20am. Out in the middle of the street. Hmmm.

BT is in a proper dudge, worrying they might “shank me up” if they see me peering out the window. Only if they can scale a 40’ sheer wall with nothing to hold onto and break the locked, double glazed windows. I’m more worried about the cars.

After a few minutes of discussion, the Key Worker Crips wander off up the road and out of sight. And yes I have been Googling the Urban Dictionary for Modern Terms for “gangs”.

”You’ve got to go check your car Dad. I won’t be able to sleep unless you do. I’m sure it’s damaged!”

”It’s 1.30am mate. I’m in my pjs. Really?”

And this, Dear Reader, is how I came to be peering at my car at 1.30am, iPhone torch in hand, in my jim-jams and dressing gown, half expecting the Police to turn up following reports of a man in night attire acting strangely. Wouldn’t be the first time.

I don’t know what it is about our road, a reasonably nice, suburban, tree-lined affair, but it does attract some Anti-Social Types. This week has seen the return of the Fly-Tipping Skangers who made a special delivery of soil outside our house. In the middle of the avenue. Not that I’d ordered any. Kindly, they also dumped a do-it-youself bathroom in kit form outside our neighbours’. They must have been in an extra-generous mood this week also having provided a Garden For Reconstituting, blocking a road just up the way. Such generosity mustn’t go unrewarded, and if we get their registration plate, I’ll be pleased to arrange a special visit by the Law Enforcement Community.

Week 16 then: full of bad ‘uns.

But Good News! I’ve managed to get my entire iTunes library (all 7,000 songs) on to a little £30 USB stick, and because the new(ish) car has technology that post-dates 2011 (unlike the old one), it recognises and plays it. Oh Happy Days! Gin is sooo pleased to be able to listen to my favourites, like Radiohead, David Sylvian and New Order. She’s loving the fact that she hasn’t yet figured out the car’s media controls so is stuck listening to my stuff when she uses the car (which she does, because it’s nicer than hers, despite her being the Bread Winner and all).

Gin has been suffering from The Boredom this week, which is never good when you have a brain the size of a planet. She’s been doing too much of that Dangerous Thinking that plagued me last week and has started to talk about Going Somewhere for next year’s Big Wedding Anniversary. This is not a Dangerous Thought in its own right, but it is Dangerous if you are on the receiving end of it and fail to acknowledge what a Fantastic Idea it is quickly enough. I now have a set of matching, sore ankles.

Talking of which, ankle update: I’m now walking without a crutch, been out on the bike a few times, and played 3/4 a round of golf. Thanks for the most excellent advice to “HR, what does he do for a living? John”, a fine athlete and very tall man who does a lot of Running About and knows about damaged ankles. He likes David Sylvian and New Order too. Might lend him my USB stick.

And lastly, a quick mention of the kids before I close this week’s blog.

Love and elbow-grease,

Mr H

PS What? The kids? They are OK. BT went to the park again with his mates; it’s almost becoming the norm, which we are quietly Massively Excited about. And GT (Girl Teenager) has had to do College work in advance of starting at Reigate in September. This is as popular with her as the colour Pink (her being a Goth, or Emo, or Gothmo or something. It’s all Black). But she’s done it and back to doodling pictures of frogs, helping cook and generally being a Nice Person To Have Around.

PPS The car wasn’t scratched.