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Sunday, 9 August 2009


I had a run in with the police the other day.

I was making blackcurrant jam, thick dark red liquid splashed over my arms, on my hands and dripping down my apron. I must've looked like I'd just butchered something large and messy. Then, a police car pulled up. Of course my heart fell to the floor because Camilla was out and I thought something terrible had happened. And I thought I might get arrested for looking like I'd committed a bloody murder.

As soon as the policeman got out of the car, I realised it wasn't to do with Camilla. He sort of had that 'you naughty girl, what have you done' sort of look on his face. He did the slow walk, past my car and then asked if it was my car. I said yes, and he asked me my name. Gave him my name. He then told me I had filled my car up with petrol yesterday and had driven off without paying.

All I could do was laugh in disbelief. After several exclamations, I apologised and asked him if he was going to press charges. He said that normally this would go down on the police records, so I promptly rushed into the kitchen and gave him a jar of strawberry jam.

Luckily, he said he loved jam on his toast in the morning and thank you very much.

Done. Policeman bribed with a jar of strawberry jam...... now there's a headline.

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