Where for art thou I Phone

'The only sin is stealing'

It's been over two weeks now since my I Phone was mercilessly ripped from my hand by your everyday bike-riding, hoody-wearing thieves. I still have not received a replacement from my insurance but that's a different matter that should be filed under 'First World Problems'.

I am often on a high horse about a lot of things, one being my notorious lack of dependency on your everyday vices e.g. smoking, drinking, gambling. Many times in my life I've had to explain why I don't do these kinds of things, 'What, you don't take ANY drugs? Not even weed?' my former boss asked. Or 'You must do SOMETHING?' staring at me with the face that should be reserved for actual circus freaks. I just laugh it off, yes I am THAT boring unfortunately/fortunately. Yet the old adage that 'you shouldn't speak to soon' rings true for me and my beloved crutch; my I Phone. It hasn't escaped my attention that no other devices require the brand name to also be mentioned i.e. You wouldn't call a phone other than an I Phone by its name, ever remember saying 'pass my Sony/Nokia/Blackberry'? No but you would say 'pass my I Phone'. Their obvious triumph in marketing has always made me want to not covet this brand like the rest of the world seems to. Oh how I would cuss my husband for always telling me about a new spangled app that I didn't care about and for always playing on it even on the loo. My contract was due for renewal so I relented and gave in to the gargantuan marketing force that is Apple. I soon came to rely on this tiny white block, accumulating hundreds of amazing and sentimental photos and videos, inputting important dates in the calendar, putting all my reference numbers and banking details in the notes. Not to mention emails on the go, Twitter and Whats App, my social life lines for a recluse like myself. Of course I didn't back these things up, I'm not a 'backing up' sort of lass, still not becoming the full technophile that I never wanted to be.

Not for one minute during this did I feel sorry for myself, this incident is just a tiny insignificant moment even relative to my tiny insignificant life. There's a billion horrific things that happen every day. Of course I was mildly angry when it happened, I was angry that I didn't look around me before I whipped out my phone to text even though I had a feeling that that very thing would happen, I was angry that I would even have to be aware of some thievery occurring two minutes from my house at 1 o'clock on a Monday afternoon, I was angry I didn't back up my beloved files, I was angry that the woman next to me wouldn't call the police, I was angry that when I called the police they didn't turn up, but most of all I was angry when I found out who they were and that they lived right around the corner from me.

Due to various hood connections, it wasn't difficult to find the two culprits because within half an hour of taking my phone, they were bragging that they had got 2 I Phones just that afternoon. Well I guess if I pocketed a grand in one Monday afternoon I'd feel pretty chuffed too. I found out their names and addresses, this being hearsay the police wouldn't have been able to do anything about it, so I have this information and yet am unable to obtain justice. In spite of my spurious connections, I am not the vengeful nor violent type. Yet this time I am quite consumed with the idea of wreaking some kind of moral retribution on them. It's not what they did, it's the principal guys!

Due to my own investigative work I also know they've both been in and out of prison, one just recently came out. Also that that very same day they did some robberies outside a nearby primary school, mums with I Phones yes please! They returned only two days later and when one mum had the audacity to chase after one of them and demand her phone back she was duly punched in the face and her jaw was broken.

So not only do these guys get to put their feet up and count the money from their ill-gotten gains, but something tells me they are laughing at the stupid law-abiding citizens who actually worked to buy these things that takes them seconds to take for themselves. My question is, is this what a free country is? Is that how life is supposed to be???

At Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in London, the rich used to sit at the seats at the top, being the hygiene freaks in the wrong sense of the word, instead of using the toilet like today's 'civilised' ??? society, they would just soil themselves and their waste used to drip to the bottom; right on top of where the common people used to sit. The same can be said of the moral fabric of the top, inevitably it drips to the bottom.

The fact that I know who the culprits are makes me feel as if it is fate, how many people can say that they know who robbed them? Until I figure out what to do, I'll have to stew in this sense of injustice, however small...

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