This is the personal blog of alisonraymond

In one thousand words ‘Wheels’ tells of a senior citizen pursuing ambitions to be a master criminal at a time in life when others are developing more sedate interests.

“And do you know, I very nearly got away with it, I’d almost reached home when I saw the flashing blue lights in my rear view mirror.”
In the silence of the pause Jeff realised that his mouth was open, amazed at what the old man had said.
Recovering his wits he stammered “So, you done a bank, right?”
The old chap smiled in recognition of the younger man’s growing understanding
“It was a building society actually, but I suppose I qualify as a bank robber, yes.”
“…And, you scarpered on one of them scooters that old people ride to save their legs?”
Again the other man smiled and nodded in assent.
“You know what” said Jeff, “You’re in the wrong place mate. What‘re you doing here on remand? You belong in a loony bin!”

The old fellow leaned forward and drew the edge of his roll up across his tongue “Well, of course I understand your sentiments, but it was a brilliantly planned undertaking and it was only misfortune which led to my arrest and thus to my present lamentable circumstance”.
Rolling tobacco was not this man’s usual habit, his cigarette was ragged at the end with a comical waist in the middle, but he placed it between his lips, lit the end and drew heavily upon the smoke.
“I was a senior clerk at court until I retired two years ago.
I saw all the big boys sent down, and do you know what? It’s the getaway that’s the problem.
It’s always big cars, fast drivers, lots of fuss and, if I may quote one recent acquaintance ‘when the law shows up they’ve got more leads than the cloakroom at the Crufts after show party’.”

Jeff looked at the floor, his shoulders rocking with mirth.

“Oh yes” his companion continued “Laugh, but consider this. The Puddlewick and Wishbourne mutual building society stands in the high street between the post office and a tea rooms presently operated by one Eleanor Fliss. Now, you’re too young to know such things, but take it from me, Thursday is pension day and the post office is where I and others of my…err…relative seniority, collect the pittance which government laughingly calls a pension, and Ms Fliss, never one to miss an opportunity, has made it her mission to corner the ‘grey’ market by a most tempting array of cakes and free refills of tea every Thursday morning.”

Jeff protested “Oh come off it granddad, are you telling me that you done the P&W because you was on your way to pick up your pension and you needed change for cake and a cuppa?”

The man sank back exhausted by the Jeff’s stupidity
“You know you really are amazingly obtuse!”

“Cor! Thanks, d’ya think so!”

He tried again.
“Look, pension day, cakes, free refills. The highstreet is awash with old people! And, what craft can sail this flood without raising an eyebrow?”

Jeff answered slowly
“a scooter...you crafty old devil!”

The old chap burst into full animation.
“It was incredible, scooters everywhere. I queued up in the building society and when my turn came I pushed a note across the counter, you know the kind of thing...Fill this bag with money and no one gets hurt, no funny business...Once I got the money I left the P&W, bumping a couple of old matrons to cause a bit of a kerfuffle. Then it was onto the scooter and into the crowd.”
He chuckled.
“I thought about stopping for tea and cake until the police came, but then I thought don’t push your luck old son, and I set off home.”

Jeff was looking perplexed
“So, what went wrong?”

“Wrong!” queried the old man.
“Yeah, wrong, or has it escaped your notice that you’re in here doing bird at her majesty’s instead of sunnin’ yerself somewhere.”

“Oh, you mean how did I come to be intercepted! I see your point. Well, my one mistake was WPC Edna Riley. You see, we had a bit of a thing once, Edna and me. She was a rookie WPC in the fifties when I was just a magistrates clerk. She was pretty in a muscular sort of way and I considered myself rather dashing, but, I regret I treated her shamefully. Well, a young man soon forgets these things, but not Edna. So, there I was on my scooter, the bag of cash in my shopping pannier when I felt the front mudguard clip the indicator of the scooter in front. The rider, an elderly woman, felt it too because she turned around to look. Angry at first, but then a look of puzzlement crossed her face. Eyes fixed, I overtook and pretended I had felt nothing”

Jeff guffawed
“It was ‘er wasn’t it! It was your Edna, you dirty old git!”

“Yes”
the old man smiled.
“It was Edna, and she had recognised me, and furthermore she wanted recompense, if not for the heartbreak then at least for the broken indicator. She followed me, but my scooter is a ‘Solesaver 2K’ her’s just a standard ‘Troika’, she couldn’t catch me.”

“So!”
triumphed Jeff.
“You get away and evil Edna has no reason to connect you to the heist, what’s the problem?”

“Technology!” said the old boy sadly shaking his head.

“Technology?” repeated Jeff.

“Yes, you see, Edna may be retired, but the police tradition continues in her grandson Dean.
Nice lad, loves his nan.
Apparently he’s always banging on at her about security and he’s given her one of these emergency pagers. Clever little gizmo designed for explorers, about the size of a matchbox. When you’re in trouble you press a button and it sends a map reference telling someone where you are. Edna’s goes direct to Dean’s mobile telephone.”

“So, she’s inspector gadget’s grandma, how does that affect you?” queried Jeff.

“You remember the collision?
My mudguard, her indicator?
Well, she thinks ‘He’s run off once, he won’t do it again’ and as we passed she dropped the pager into my pannier.
When the police car pulled me over I was almost home, but when young Dean found the pager bleeping fit to bust in the bottom of my pannier with my map reference on his mobile he got very shirty and started a full search. By the time Edna arrived on the trusty ‘Troika’ there I was bang to rights with a small fortune in my front basket.
And that, young Jeffrey is how you and I come to be sharing accommodation.”