Death not a full stop

... merely a hyphen.

Wasn't actually looking for a heading; I'd thought I'd call it 'theft alley' or some such, then my eye was caught by this good line so I thought I'd punch it in.

These photos are taken from what would have been the viewpoint of my mother as she stood by her chest-of-drawers in what I came to call Thief Alley.It is in fact the connecting walk-in wardrobe that separates what is my bedroom (from which I'm peering) from what used to be my mother's bedroom.

Before the theft of my daughters' heirloom jewels on or around early morning of April 6th, 2007, I didnt bother that much with the wardrobe: I stored clothes there and, on one of the shelves, a box of my entire 40-year collection of cufflinks, tie pins and general knickknacks.It was the safest place I could think of.
After my mother had filched my jewels when i wasnt looking - i estimate around 2am of the day of departure to Venice - to take them over to my brother's place ('Villa Thefti'), I became lynx-eared for movements in Alley Thefti, especially around the thieving hours of early morn - and would time my entrance for maximum drama and effort.

I would take interested (or incredulous) parties from all sections of the island to show them the corridor and mimed so well my part in catching her 'red-handed' that people would laff and ask me to recreate the hilarious scene with camera and pose.

My younger daughter in particular never tired of my recreating the scene.

I'd be woken by my mother's scufflings, usually the sound of her rearranging her jewel box.

I would burst in the room when I judged maman to be at a key moment and explain my wakefulness and stealth on being keen to avoid another mishap such as the snaffling of the girls' treasures.

The air of guilt was hilarious and of course the place reeked of memories of the April 2007 thieving. [to be continued, but i'm glad to have at least started on this post, perhaps the first in a reconstruction of some of the key moments over the years ]