The House Mover's Tale

Some weeks back, when I returned from holiday, I found the window in my outhouse smashed, which was depressing. The only things nickable were a few bottles of beer, so I didn't lose much. I took the glass out and nailed up a hard perspex sheet to keep the rain out, but because I did a basic job I came back from work some days later to find that the sheet had been knocked through. Since then I've had a few bottles of homebrew wine and a cycle lock nicked, because they were within kids reach of the window - stuff further away than a lad can reach has remained untouched.

A line's been crossed. One thing that's clear about Bilborough is how public space is shat on, but private space is left alone. Signs are covered in graffiti, bins are set on fire, the occasional car is nicked and set alight, but the boundaries of people's homes seem to be mostly inviolate. Brick walls are clear of graffiti, rubbish isn't dumped in front yards, windows aren't broken, as is the case in areas such as Strelley, Aspley and Cinderhill (you just have to drive through them to see the difference). Instead, hedges and walls and gardens are well tended, and residents actively maintain and improve their homes and gardens - all over Bilborough extensions are built, paving is laid, ornamental gates and fences are installed, gardens are tended, and houses are painted. Outside home boundaries darrens roam free, but on the whole they obey an unwritten rule that you don't bugger up people's homes.

That's what's depressing and disturbing about the minor vandalisms to my home and car (another, boring story that happened a few months back), that they took place inside the home boundary. The perps obviously consider my boundaries to not matter, and feel themselves free to poke around my front garden and car port. Not to do a proper break-in and burglary - they've neither the brains nor the equipment for proper thievery - but simply to poke around, relieve their chronic boredom through a bit of petty vandalism, and nick anything that presents itself. Even though it has zero value, the act of nicking itself has some pathetic excitement value (I know - I did the same when I was a darren). Proper burglary I could understand, but the local neds are too lazy and thick to do anything more than smash an outhouse window or try to break into a car. Slackers.

Why do this to my home, but not to others? Well, I can't be sure that others aren't also suffering the same petty invasions of boundaries, so maybe it's just standard for these parts. However, I can't see any darren daring to venture into the front yard of the hard cases nearby, partly for fear of physical injury, partly because the long-term residents know who the kids are. I'm soft, though - even if I caught any neds in flagrante in my home I'd likely as not stand aside for them to saunter out smirking. It's been 30 years since I last hit anyone and I've rather lost the knack, plus I'd be more worried that their psycho parents would came after me with baseball bats. I've let kids in my garden, at the time thinking there was no harm to it, but that sends a signal that I'm a soft touch, and those kids that know me will know how soft I am, and that sort of info gets around. When I was a kid, and used to hang out as a wannabe with gangs of lads who'd carry out the same sort of petty vandalism and thievery, we quickly sussed who you could give grief, and who to leave alone, and I doubt things are any different these days.

This is a place for hard men, and hard women, with families - not a place for soft, middle-aged single men. Hard in mind and hard in body is what you need to be to get along in Bilborough. Still, on the plus side, this sort of low-level grottery just adds to my desire to get out of the estate, and ideally out of Nottingham, recently dubbed the second worst place to live in the UK by some C4 property programme.