There's something about a crime self-report form that intimidates. That shouldn't be the case. As I scanned this archaic document, seeming to punish victims of crime, I thought I ought to call the club I was in Friday night. I'd avoided this for a lot of reasons. Well, 2. One, I was convinced it had been nicked, and the other was that I hate making phone calls to strangers. It petrifies me. The only thing that petrified me more was being charged with wasting police time. If they'd phoned the club and found out I'd not checked with them and that my phone was there all the time? Fine, as in having to pay them money, not everything being hunky dory. And possible criminal proceedings. So I bounced this around in my head and figured it was better to brave the club management just to ask a question rather than to risk pissing off the police.
So I phoned the club today.
Someone had turned my phone in.
Just because it was turned in doesn't mean it wasn't nicked in the first place.
Maybe I just needed to rant about something.
Lesson learned? Sheepishness leads only to more sheepishness.
And someone definitely nicked my fucking headphones.