Norfolk has gone back to school and back to work. I am home alone. I don’t like being in a house on my own, it makes me responsible to do things if something happens. The problem is that it’s quiet on my own, and I’m very scared of things so when I hear a weird noise from downstairs I imagine what it is, and I try to plan how to save the day.
For example: If someone manages to break into the house and I can hear them stealing the TV I would probably have to do something about it because if the family come back and see that the window is broken and the TV is gone they would have questions. In my head the way it goes is that I would poke my head out of the door and shout “hello!” and hope that they realise if they take the TV I would call the police. They would therefore leave abruptly with only the broken window, and when that’s asked about I can blame it on a ball.
Another way it could go is I approach the balaclava-clad burgler with enough power in my voice to make him go away. The voice of reason will reign supreme and he will go away, not only leaving the TV in tact but also apologising and offering to pay for the damaged window. If that fails I’d fight him, with a seven week self-defense course under my belt I could break his knee. If I get stabbed I’d be valiant and become a hero.
How it is more likely to go is that I would hear them making their way through all the rooms. I would hide in the wardrobe with my phone and wish the police service had a text-in service so that the person would not hear me in the house. I would hope that he wouldn’t find me and I could either escape or stay concealed. If he was to find me I would probably cry and beg for my life.
“You can take anything you want!” I would cry. The stuff can be replaced. “Just don’t take my life!” and I would watch as he leaves with all the valuables he could carry. And I’d have a lot of explaining to do, but I’d be glad that I still have my life.
I’m home alone as I write this, fantasizing of all the things that could happen. The noise of the washing machine is unnerving and I blame the dog for any weird noise that come from the hallway. If only it didn’t look bad in court, then I would keep a baseball bat with me in bed.