Wednesday

I had a surprising conversation today.

I rang somebody that I know vaguely for some advice at the beginning of this week.

This was an acquaintance who knows things about the prison service. When I rang I was feeling anxious and confused, and wanted to hear somebody else’s sensible thoughts about the whole thing.

That was on Monday, absolutely ages and ages ago. I don’t really need advice now, because I have become settled in my own mind about the whole misadventure, and have achieved Inner Calm.

By today I had completely forgotten that I had called him at all. He had not been there when I rang, so I had left a message, and today he called me back.

I said that I had worked everything out to my satisfaction by now, but told him all about it anyway.

I could hear him frowning on the other end of the telephone. The thing about online diaries, he said, was that it meant that people would know who you were and where you lived. This is a dangerous thing if you are working in a prison.

What would happen, he said, if somebody of a rascally disposition came to the back door, and told me that he Knew Who My Children Were, and Where They Went To School? What would I do if  in order to maintain their continued good health and freedom,  I must smuggle a memory stick into the prison and give it to a prisoner?

I told you he was a distant acquaintance.

I said that if anybody wanted to know where I lived they could probably look in the telephone book.

It did not seem worth continuing the conversation, so I thanked him profusely for taking the trouble to call, which was actually very kind, he is a busy chap.

I don’t really think that many prison officers have to put up with their children being kidnapped, certainly nobody mentioned it when I applied for the job. If anybody has the actual statistic for that particular crime, I would be interested to hear it.

I told Mark about it later on.

We had a quiet moment whilst we imagined somebody trying to kidnap the children.

Perhaps they might start with Number One Daughter, international weightlifter and military machine. They might get her as she came out of Sandhurst.

Possibly Number One Son-In-Law, terrifying military killing machine and scourge of the seven seas. They might get him on his oil rig.

Or Number Two Daughter. Somewhere in Australia. Or maybe in Japan. If they managed to kidnap her they could perhaps tell me her address, because I have got no idea where she is at all.

Lucy, admittedly, could be considered vulnerable, apart from that she is an instructor in unarmed military combat, also known as Rapid Assault Techniques. Once she has finished her door supervisor training and joined the police in a few months, probably they won’t bother about her either.

Then there is Oliver, who, bless him, does not get into many fights. He is only twelve, and  has only been arrested once so far, which was during his travelling to Portugal by himself adventure. Compared to his sisters, he is a gentle soul. The hypothetical villains might well find out where he goes to school.

I wonder if Gordonstoun has ever thought about their security arrangements.

Mark said that if you wanted to kidnap or shoot anybody badly enough you probably could, but that if he were a villain he would probably choose somebody else’s children.

I have added some pictures to this post, for the benefit of blackmailing villains who might wish to work out which children to avoid. The last picture is Oliver on his way to Gordonstoun.

If you are a villain you will need a car and plenty of fuel money if you are going to pop up to his school to kidnap him.

Can I suggest that you don’t bother?