Friday January 18 th 2008
I have acquired a small lock pick kit with no need to return to burglary.
My luck might be changing.
The computer geek put me onto it. There is a small lost property cupboard at the back of the building. It rarely has anything in it. Those that have little rarely lose things — and none of my fellow inmates have more than a penny between them. However, on the odd occasion a new boy rolls up and, fearing for his possessions, asks the staff to look after them. They use the lost property cupboard as a safe place to store stuff. The guests soon discover that their belongings are a dam sight safer under their bed than under the watchful eye of the staff.
Not that the staff are dishonest but they are careless.
The geek told me that a new boy had checked in. As was my wont I ignored him until he also informed me that the new boy was an ex con called Sid Montgomery.
Now I know a Sid Montgomery of old. Not by sight but by reputation. He was a burglar much in the same mould as myself only he worked the Solway coast. He had a good rep and a fondness for hard liquor. More than once he had been caught in someone’s house; passed out with the contents of the owner’s drinks cabinet in his stomach.
I did a bit of asking and it transpired that the Sid I knew and Sid the new boy were one and the same.
It wasn’t the greatest piece of Sherlockian deduction to figure he might be holding a kit on his person or in his bag.
Fortunately he had decided to hand in his bag and the staff duly placed it in the lost property cupboard, as it was the only place with a lock. A paperclip took care of the lock and a quick rifle of Sid’s bag revealed a small but adequate tool kit. I pocketed it, returned his bag to the cupboard and locked it.
I took the kit to the rear of the hotel and, placing it in a plastic bag, buried it in the flower bed. If Sid reported the kit missing they would turn the place upside down looking for it.
Sometimes it feels like I simply swapped one prison for another. The lack of bars and guards seems to matter little. In my head I feel as trapped as ever.
In my fourteen years as a guest of Her Majesty I had dreamed of the moment that I would walk free the way a teenager dreams of his first sexual encounter. Now I was out there seems to be no freedom in my freedom. An ex con, no cash, living in a hostel — at least back in prison I had hope. Out here hope should be piled high around every corner. I just don’t seem to be finding the right corners at the moment but maybe Sid’s lockpick is a start.
I’m off to case the Easterhouse Credit Union tomorrow.
Gordon Brown
59 Minutes
Sunday January 20 ^th 2008
I forgot it was Saturday. I lose track so easily. It was after lunch before I got there and it was closed.
The building sits in a row of shops in a run down mall. The mall is the epitome of a shopping experience in one of Glasgow ’s more challenged areas. In order, left to right as you look at them from the pavement — the row of shops contains the following — Charlies — fish and chips, Ho Wah — Chinese take away, Five in One — kebabs et al, Mother India — Indian, Tantastic — sun beds for the masses, ‘Booze for All’ — cheap drink, Kenny’s — sweets and fags, Easterhouse Credit Union, Priced Out — corner store, MacWilliams — bookies.
It doesn’t take much of a challenge to the intellect to realise why some areas of Glasgow have a life expectancy twenty years less than others.
The whole block is a sixties strip with a car park on the roof. Behind it lies a small lane that provides access for deliveries. A couple of CCTV cameras pay lip service to security but the real issue is the out and out quantity of plate steel that rolls down of a night and protects the front and back of the shops.
The shop owners are no fools and the Credit Union is no exception. I’m not sure what I had in my head but my target isn’t welcoming me with open arms. The shutter is a serious deterrent and the locks that bind it to the pavement would need plastic explosive to break them.
The rear is not much better but, as with every break-in I’ve ever been involved in, the obvious routes are always the best and the most obvious is the tiny window that sits next to the back door.
Unlike the door it is protected by a wire grill not a steel shutter, but it is sturdy and the window is re-enforced mesh glass. It looks too small to let a man through but you would be amazed at what you can slip through if you have to.
Tomorrow I’ll suss out the other two and then it’s down to the hard bit.