What can I say? I worked for the money which bought the things that were stolen. No one gave them to me. I did not steal them from a richer person. When I was young and just commencing a long life of house renovation and part time farming nearly all of my first implements, from a screwdriver to a spade, were bought second-hand. As life went on I managed to buy a plot of land, an old tractor and a plough. I did not steal the tractor and plough. I bought them at auctions and from farmers. I had a good job. I worked hard by day and sometimes all night. Perhaps I was just lucky.
I despise the people that have robbed me, but I do not hate them. I am not asking for sympathy here. I just want to vent some spleen. This theft could distract me from the building project, could distance me from Spain itself. But I think not. They must not be allowed to win – they’ve got my stuff but they cannot steal my will. The stolen things are, as people have reassured me, just things. Yet I was rather fond of them; we spent a lot of time together.
I will probably purchase new machinery, increase security, take everything home, become less trusting, more cynical, feel despoiled and less happy. Oh well, at least I drowned my depressed spirits in good old English ale last night after leading two tours. The income from the tours will help a little towards buying a new generator perhaps.