The Diamond Burglar
I was sitting in a booth at TeaEmporium — one of those trendy tea shops up west that thinks it doesn’t even need ‘the’ before its name on the sign and where a pot of tea costs more than I once earnt in a day. When Rebecca arrived I was still reading The Telegraph, I had picked it up to read on the tube but the article I was interested in was spread over a couple of inside pages, a series of burglaries that had taken place over the past few months where just one diamond was stolen per burglary. Nothing more, nothing less. The thief had been rather unimaginatively named The London Diamond Burglar…more a job description rather than a name in my opinion. As I’m not that good with folding a broadsheet I waited until I had arrived at TeaEmporium knowing full well I was early and Rebecca would be on-time to the second giving me plenty of time for reading and preloading her bill with a pan roasted Oolong. As Rebecca arrived I was still wrestling and swearing at the newsp...