As Christmas draws nearer – it makes you think back on the past, not sure this is something you do more of as you get older, becoming more reflective but I seem to be tripping down memory lane more and more often lately. Who knows. Christmas brings with it fond, warm memories of people you used to celebrate it with, grandparents, friends, work mates – some who and some who are not in your life any more.
The Christmas of 1991 is one I will never forget as it brought with it the murder of a friend and colleague, a crime which is still unsolved. A police officer stabbed and killed while trying to arrest someone stealing a handbag. Jim was a detective at Bow Street and had just moved over to Leman Street when he lost his life. I last saw him in The Globe, the regular watering hole of the Bow Street police where he introduced me to his wife Victoria, another Victoria – both nicknamed Plum. I wrapped her Christmas presents for him that year too, I was the CID clerk, I did everything! Plum didn’t deserve to be a widow at 24, neither did Jim deserve to lose his life at 26. He was a good man. I remember walking into Bow Street after Christmas and the heavy, dark atmosphere is something that will never leave me.
I often wonder what happened to the scum who killed him, after all they never caught him. I just hope that this vile piece of shit is lying at the bottom of the Thames with a hundred bricks on top of him. In any case, Karma catches up with all of us. I just hope they got their just desserts.
My years at Bow Street saw a lot of happiness and sadness, what a start to working life! I don’t think I would be the person or writer I am now though without these type of experiences to draw on.
This isn’t a post about writing, a film review or an interview. But felt I needed to share.
Thanks for reading.
