Nicola Barker - Burley Cross Postbox Theft

An Important Question:

Why do I consider Wharfedale to be under special threat?

Here’s the answer:

Most MHC theft started off in London (in Newham, east London, over 200 grates and covers were stolen during 2004 -93 of these in just one week) .

Since this time, MHCs have been taken, in considerable quantities, from places as far afield as Gloucester, Powys, Aberdeen and Fife (a batch of approximately 13 were stolen in Alness, but given that this was during a phase of snowy weather, the general consensus is that these may have been lifted by irresponsible locals to be employed as sledges).

The point I’m trying to make here is that Bradford, Leeds, and the outlying areas currently represent an immaculate — a pristine — hunting ground for these plucky, ruthless and tenacious Chinese thieves. Look at the map (enclosed): we lie right in the middle of their former targets. We are ripe for the plucking — a virgin patch!

So what the hell are we meant to do about all this?

I’ll tell you what: keep our noses to the ground and our eyes peeled. That, and spread the word: get the general public on board. Get them involved. Warn them, prime them, prepare them for what lies ahead.

Let’s educate , Constables, together . A campaign in schools and colleges (I’m more than happy to play my part, here), supported by the distribution of some well-designed posters and leaflets, followed by a media blitz, featuring some on-the-spot reports in local radio and television news programmes, articles and opinion pieces in the local paper…

What people don’t know — and what you yourselves may not yet realize — is that MHCs ‘offer living testimony to the industrial artistry of the second half of the nineteenth century’ (cf. Wikipedia under Manhole Cover Theft). These objects can be beautiful (see enclosed photographs — copyright BT), they aren’t just ‘hunks of metal’ but precious little pieces of our social history, and, as such, are not just priceless, but utterly irreplaceable.

Those thieving Reds need to be stopped in their tracks!

One final question (and it’s a tough one):

Do you two gentlemen have the balls for the job?

Wel l?

BT

PS Sergeant Everill. Further to our conversation in early Sept. re the BCPTW’s ‘August Initiative’. You didn’t seem to take our endeavours terribly seriously when I initially approached you, but it may be of some interest to you to discover that our website is soon about to feature photographs of (and car registration details belonging to) a notable member of the Bingley Constabulary. Off duty, naturally… Fancy a little chin-wag about it?

You know where I am.

Bax

PPS Oh yes… And before you go to the unnecessary effort of wheeling out that whole, rather tired ‘working undercover’ dodge, there was nothing remotely ‘undercover’ about the kind of activities that scoundrel was engaged in. Trust me.

B

Highbank

2 Shortcroft Rd

Burley Cross

21 December, 2006

Dear Nadia,

This simply has to stop! I just can’t bear it any more! I’ve had enough! And when I say stop, I mean stop — no more phone calls, no more letters, no more tantrums, no more tears, no more threats…

If you do come over on the ferry and turn up at the house, unannounced, then I shall hurt myself. I shall slash myself with a razor. I mean it, Nadia. I’m desperate. I have nothing left to lose. I carry it with me at all times, tucked into my bra, just in case. It’s there right now — right this minute, pressing against my skin — wrapped up in a little piece of tissue paper.

Every time I hear a knock at the door I reach for it. Every time I answer the door — or Peter answers — I have it hidden in my hand. I will use it, Nadia. I swear on everything I hold sacred. I will use it.

It’s over. It’s over . Why don’t you understand? How much more plainly can I state this? What more can I say? Why won’t you just listen? (What’s wrong with you? Are you deluded? Insane?) I want you out of my life! There! I’ll say it again! I WANT YOU OUT OF MY LIFE!

Is that plain enough for you? Is that clear enough?

How did you track me down? How? How?! And why? Why did you persist when it was so obvious — so obvious! — that I didn’t want to be found? I changed my name, my hair colour, my accent, my religion. I changed it all. I lost it all. I wanted to lose it, don’t you see?

I’m a different person now. I’m someone else. I play bridge.

I do tapestry. I sing in the church choir. I raised £235 on the Walk for Life. I’m a good person, a stable person.

And I’m not your mother. I was never your mother. I never wanted you. I’m sorry to have to say that — to write that down in black and white — but it’s the truth. I’ve given everything I had to give. I’m very sorry if it wasn’t enough for you. I apologize. I truly apologize — but this is who I am , Nadia. This is me. I’m sorry if you find it disappointing. I’m sorry if you’re angry. But have you ever bothered to think — even for a second — about what you’re putting me through? You only seem to think about yourself — your feelings, your rights. But what about mine? If you honestly cared for me — as you insist that you do — then why can’t you just show it by LEAVING ME ALONE?!

I didn’t ask for this, Nadia. I didn’t ask for any of this. It’s making me ill. You are making me ill. I am very depressed and on edge. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t seem to concentrate my mind on anything. Peter has noticed. He’s started asking me questions. I swear to God, if you turn up, unannounced, and ruin the life I’ve struggled so hard to build with him, I shall never forgive you. Never. Never . I shall hate you. I shall spit in your face and then slash my own throat.

I’m sobbing as I scribble all of these terrible things down, because I’m sorry. I am sorry. I’m sorry that it has had to come down to this. I’m not a maniac, but this situation is in danger of turning me into one. I have lost all sense of self-control. I keep bursting into tears. I am a different person. I can’t seem to recognize myself.

This isn’t normal for me. But I’m cornered, like a trapped animal. You have cornered me. You are in control of my destiny. You hold it in your hands. My destiny! My destiny! Not your destiny, but my destiny!

LET ME GO! LET ME GO! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO THIS TO ME!

I am afraid, Nadia. I am terrified. And I shall do anything — anything — it takes to survive this. I shall come out baring my teeth and my claws. I shall scratch and bite. You’re giving me no other option. There is no other way.

And don’t think for a moment that it’s because I care for him more . Why do you keep on saying that? Why?! I don’t understand the logic of your way of thinking! It’s so stupid! It’s so selfish! I don’t care for him more . I care about the work I’ve invested! I care about the years of work I’ve invested. I won’t have you just turning up and ruining it all for me. You ruined it all for me once before, thirty-six years ago. I won’t let you do it again. I’d kill myself first. I won’t go through it all again. I can’t. I can’t! Don’t you understand? I can’t! It just isn’t fair!

Why all these questions about your father? What more do you feel you need to know about him? Why don’t you just let these things alone?