Some f**king w**ker has stolen our truck.

Our truck. They took it last night. B**tards. Have spent the morning dealing with the police and insurance companies. It's insured, but that's not the point. The police feel it was stolen to order and it's unlikely we'll get it back unless it's picked up on CCTV. It's probably already got a new number plate and being sold on.

All the internal fittings and appliances we'd bought and collected are here in the flat, thankfully. But it's been the one thing keeping me going through all the recent shit, knowing we had this project and that we were off travelling early next year. It took us so long to find that truck, to get the right vehicle. Her size, condition, everything was perfect for us. We're back to square one.

I feel broken. It's bloody well not fair. C'mon life, let me for once have a run of positive things without having another kick in the teeth. My head can't cope.

Thank you for all your kind words. Right now we feel like buying a bottle of JD and drowning our sorrows. Even Mr Tom, my steadfast capricorn feels like hitting walls.

Adrelin helped me hold it together this morning but had to collapse for a while. As I drifted off, paranoia invented a million reasons as to why the insurance company might not pay out, and then I dreamt that I caught the guy who'd stolen her and beat the crap out of him.

It's horrible to think that whoever did this, knew what they were doing. That they could have had their eye on our truck for sometime. There was no glass on the ground - they were professionals. They haven't just stolen our truck. They've taken all our hardwork and money to date. They've taken our faith and our dream.

We'll just have to muster the energy to start again. Am even more determined to leave this grotty place.

AuthorWoolly Wormhead