St Malo is such a pretty port to arrive in.
Unfortunately I do not have such a pretty sight when I arrive at my house in Caro.
Someone has tried to break in. The porch door had held well as they had tried in 25 places to lever it open!
Unfortunately they hadn’t given up and had managedto gain access elsewhere.
Fortunately it appears they were just looking for money, tipping out a couple of tins and drawers, but nothing too bad.
The TV, stereo and an old laptop were still there, as well as all the booze phew!
Somewhere in the depths of my brain I remember the word for thief, and in my best Franglais tell my neighbours who are in their garden. They are shocked.
I walk down to Martin and Jennifers’ house, English friends in the village, to tell them what has happened.
Martin speaks to my neighbour who lives opposite who calls the Gendarmes.
It seems the break in happened either Friday or Saturday night as my neighbour had mowed our lawn on Friday.
The Gendarme arrive within half an hour, pretty impressive as its Sunday and the start of a Bank Holiday.
They take fingerprints. The garage had also been broken into, but nothing appears to have been taken.
I thought that 50 euros left by my parents had been stolen, but having spoken to them on the phone I find it.
Ironically the thieves have missed the only money in the house.
The police leave, I have to report to the station at 3pm tomorrow.
I head into Maelstroit hoping the supermarket will still be open, but it closes at 12.30 I have just missed it.
The restaurants are all full, so I ride home via Guer to see if my friends Dave and Sally are over. They aren’t.
Luckily I’d had a large breakfast on the boat, so last out till later in the evening when I ride to Ploermel and get a Maccie D takeaway. The french burgers are so much nicer than ours.
Not the start to my holiday I had hoped for, but I am thankful as it could have all been so much worse, and Im glad it was me who found it and not my Mum and Dad.