Called by the fuzz

On Thursday I bought a new (to me) car. I traded in my old Mondeo as part exchange. Last night (Friday) I went to bed early. About an hour and a half into my sleep I was rudely awakened by a noise which I couldn't quite figure out what it was. I listened for a bit before I realised that it was actually the phone. I must have been in a deep sleep. It rung off before I got there, but started ringing again before I got back to bed.

"Good evening sorry to call you so late is that Dr Carvel and are you the registered keeper of X-ray 7-9-8 Romeo Sierra Sierra?" came the punctuationless stream of words down the phone.

"Erm, huh?"

"X-ray 7-9-8 Romeo Sierra Sierra?"

"Yes, that was my car. I traded it in on Thursday..."

And so on. It turned out that this was the police and that my car had been stolen. My old car, that is. Which had probably been sitting out the back of a garage in central Edinburgh, probably with the keys in the ignition. The police had pulled the car over and - for some reason - were suspicious that the driver was not the owner. But did they really have to call me after midnight to find out if I was the owner?

So I went back to bed. And lay awake worrying, quite irrationally, that my new car was somehow more at risk of being stolen... Thankfully its still there this morning.