When it comes to burglary I have some street cred. In 1790 a distant relative back in England was convicted of highway robbery and housebreaking. John P was sentenced to be transported to New South Wales as a convict. Old JP served his time, was given a land grant, married a female convict and eventually became a respectable Australian farmer.
I don’t go for burglary myself, but I am quite interested in the idea of reverse burglary. By that I mean infiltrating properties legally and not taking things away, but leaving them behind. I like to deposit unexpected and puzzling things that I feel the occupiers really should have.*
Recently I went to a friend’s birthday party and I quietly returned a book we had borrowed. It was too busy and too noisy at the party to seek out mine host to explain what I was doing. So I just placed it on the shelf smoothly and surreptitiously. For some reason I felt guilty about it as though I had previously stolen the book and, overcome by remorse, I was now returning it. But that wasn’t the case. I was just returning a borrowed book. This started me thinking, what if I omitted the first step (borrowing the item) and just deposited articles for people to use and enjoy and be amazed by? Friends, family, strangers, work colleagues, everyone could benefit.
I started in a small way. When we were at a local neighbourhood restaurant I noticed a single man sitting at one end of the bar watching something on his phone and a single woman at the other end of the bar also looking at her phone. I did a little surveillance sortie on my way to the toilet and saw, as I expected, that both were watching internet cat videos. I have a few puzzling giveaways in my bag so I quietly pulled out two cat key-rings and gave them to the waiter to give anonymously to the two cat-cam watchers. He graciously did this as I looked on. The man and the woman took the cat charm key-rings, turned them over, looked mystified and then looked around the restaurant. Inevitably they each noticed each other playing with cat ornaments. After some confusion and trepidation, they started up a conversation, no doubt about their furry felines. Who knows, maybe romance blossomed as they discussed kitty litter, scratching posts, catteries and tomcat castration.
At a local cafe I realised that all the teaspoons in the sugar bowls were just stainless steel. How boring. I had inherited a collection of souvenir teaspoons from Aunt Nelly, so I decided to add interest to the cafe experience by quietly substituting souvenir spoons. Who wouldn’t be intrigued by a teaspoon commemorating the 1999 Elvis Festival in Parkes Australia, or one with the face of Ex-Prime Minister Kevin Rudd and the “Kevin ’07” logo or a teaspoon celebrating the 50th anniversary of the invention of dry shampoo? Lots of talking points there for socially retiring cafe patrons: music, politics and personal hygiene.
I put books I have finished with on the shelves in local libraries with a sticker inside saying “Take me home I’m Yours”. I’m sure someone will want to investigate “Bomb Proof your Horse” (a very practical how to book for the owners of easily scared ponies). “How Green were the Nazis?” will clearly interest war loving environmentalists. “Knitting with Dog Hair” by Kendall Crolius is a must have for the proud pooch pamperer. No dog lover could possibly resist a book with the tagline “Better a sweater from a dog you know and love than from a sheep you will never meet”. I’ll admit that some of my books have a limited appeal such as “How to Avoid Huge Ships” by Captain John W. Trimmer. However I do have some friends who sail a small dinghy on Albert Park Lake so at the right opportunity I’ll slip it into their sail bag. I’ve already given my dentist, Dr Paine, a copy of “Managing a Dental Practice the Genghis Khan way”. I simply placed it on the front desk while the receptionist was busy extracting the fillings of another patient’s wallet. Doctors’ waiting rooms are also wide open to reverse burglary. I recently lost interest in keeping goldfish so I carefully transported little Keith and Nicole in a plastic bag full of water to the doctor’s office, keeping the bag hidden behind my back. Dr Carp has a large, well maintained fish tank in his waiting area so I quietly emptied Keith and Nicole and their water into the good doctor’s tank. I’m sure they will have a long and happy retirement in the goldfish bowl of their new life.
I always feel sorry for unwanted outdoor furniture. I see it all the time, pushed out of home, abandoned and morose looking, sitting next to the footpath waiting to be picked up by the hard rubbish collectors. Just imagine it: from lounging in the backyard one moment to landfill the next. Such tragedy tugs at my heart strings. So when I see some unwanted outdoor articles, I stash them in the back of the car and take them home and spruce them up. A bit of paint, a quick repair to some of the fabric and a good clean is usually all that is required to restore a 1970s deckchair, sunbed or folding table to its former glory. Next I survey a nearby neighbourhood for homes with empty front verandas. Then I make a quick trip at night, preferably when the residents are obviously out, and leave a tasteful arrangement of refurbished furniture on their front porch. Sometimes I add a personalized plea via an attached note such as:
“Please be kind to us.
We cannot return home or we will be destroyed.
We will support you for years to come if you just hose us down every now and then.
Love from your new outdoor best friends”.
Be warned though, not everyone appreciates reverse burglary. Once when I was sharing the love around with rescued outdoor furniture, the family arrived home just as I was carrying a deckchair onto their front deck. They misunderstood me. I smiled at them and tried to explain how good they would feel about giving a fresh start to these outdoor orphans. However they flew into a rage and accused me of burgling their house and carrying off their possessions, and threatened to call the police. I beat a hasty retreat by jumping into my car and taking off as they screamed at me and beat on the roof with their fists. They just couldn’t grasp the beauty of possession repositioning. We artists sometimes have to suffer for our art.
Do you dream of changing the world? Just imagine the confusing difference you can make to people’s dull, everyday lives by practising a little reverse burglary.
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* For more ideas see “The Un-Burglars” by Ellis Parker Butler in “Philo Gubb, Correspondence-School Detective”.
