DEAR burglar, you broke into my house on December 18. Do you remember visiting a quiet village in Dorset, smashing, with a large ridge roof tile, my kitchen window and stealing all my jewellery?

This I was leaving to my three granddaughters.

You probably have melted it down for money for drugs. Let’s hope you are not high whilst reading this.

Let me tell you exactly what you have done if indeed you care.

I am totally devastated, can’t stop crying, scared in my own home.

You stole items that belonged to my grandmother.

Do you even know who your grandmother is?

My mother died and left me her things bought for her in a long marriage by my father who fought in WWII at Dunkirk and D Day.

I bet you’ve never heard of those names.

I can see you in my nightmares unshaven, unemployed, a worthless drug addict and a waste of space on this earth.

I used to have sympathy, empathy for people like you.

I have worked as a volunteer since 1985 and in the NHS all my life. I used to help people like you.

How dare you?

How can you live with yourself?

I can live at peace. I have worth.

You have not any worth at all.

You smashed in and climbed stairs decorated with tinsel.

My grandchildren did that for me.

Did you not feel anything? Probably not.

I hope you feel it now.