Damn. I remember Cory being so pleased with those goggles in London. The only way I can think of cheering him up is to push his story of having them stolen a little higher up the Daypop list.
I’ve never been mugged. Last Christmas, I was walking down Oxford Street and bumped into a young man. He got really angry (in that “I’m quite enjoying being this angry” way), and as I was trying to calm him down, his friend came from the side and punched me quickly, forceably, straight in the head. They laughed at my tottering, shocked expression, and walked on. One turned around and shouted “You’ll look where you’re going next time, won’t you?”. All of this in the middle of London’s most crowded street at the busiest time of year.
It was the speed that amazed me. The punch was out of the blue, and I didn’t even have time to see who did it. No-one else on the street would have spotted it, and if I’d shouted after the gang, it would have been me who would have looked strange and suspicious. It even took me a few minutes to register what had happened. I was edgy about crowds for about forty minutes afterwards, until I’d sat down with a drink with some friends. There are two times in your life when you know exactly what to do when someone assaults you on the street – every moment you live before it happens, and all the years afterwards.
One of the things I considered shortly afterwards was applying for a Data Protection Act copy of the CCTV’d videotape of the event (the DPA allows you to demand copies of any camera footage of yourself, and Oxford Street is one of the most CCTVd streets in Europe). Not for catching the puncher – CCTV’s don’t really help much with that, and I’m not sure the police would be that sympathetic. But just to reassure myself that it all really happened.