It’s funny how we get attatched to material things, isn’t it? I mean, I have more junk than any sane man should. My room is a tip.

I got home tonight, and found the front door ajar. Someone seems to have been in, and gone through the most ovbious rooms in the flat – the downstairs hall, and my bedroom, which is at the top of the stairs.

Thankfully, my room is a tip. There was only one obvious and easily portable thing of value sitting out in the room.

My Nikon D70.

I’m in tears. I can’t afford another, and we don’t have household insurance, because I was too fucking stupid to get it sorted out in time.

I’m fucked. I owe most of a grand on a camera that I adored, and have now lost and cannot afford to replace, and I’m in tears over it. I would never have thought that loosing a material possession could fuck me up like this.

Shit.