I was wondering if murder-spy thriller The Thirty-Nine Steps would have been as successful if Perth’s John Buchan had called it The Thirty-Eight Steps instead.
Of course it would. Thirty-nine was, famously, the author’s code for an enemy spy escape route.
Anyway, all I could do was keep gasping “38 steps” to my wife. It’s the final number I came to while trudging up a stone staircase in stifling Spanish heat at a holiday apartment block. With no lift, I might add, and I had to make several trips, lugging heavy cases and a multitude of other bags.
We were in the middle of our own adventure mystery: a stark reminder of how vulnerable we are when parting with large amounts of cash to hire holiday rentals from people we don’t know.
We discovered that the second week of our 14 days in a Spanish apartment had been double-booked. We’d have to find somewhere else – just weeks before flying in.
A frantic few hours passed, until we finally came across another apartment.
With a click of a button, hundreds of euros were speeding from our account into the hands of a couple of Dutch property entrepreneurs in Spain. And all within an hour of making their acquaintance. It seems mad, doesn’t it?
I kept thinking guiltily of my bank app; hardly a moment passes without it asking me darkly: “Is this a scam?” or “Are you sure you want to make this payment?”
At least it seemed we were using a reputable holiday booking search engine, and it scored well on review website Trustpilot.
I’m no Martin Lewis, but I used my Visa card to make the transaction, as I believed this gave us some protection if we were being scammed over a non-existent apartment.
My stomach was churning away on reaching the 38th step. I was about to discover if the apartment really existed, along with the Dutch duo.
And, there he was, waiting at the door to meet me as arranged: Tim, one half of the holiday property enterprise. Tall and casually dressed in T-shirt and shorts, smiling and holding red roses for my wife as a greeting gift.
I had worked myself up into such a state that I could hardly speak or think straight due the flood of joy coursing through my whole body. So, I blurted out something really daft.
I said to Tim: “Tim, I didn’t think people in Holland were called Tim.” He seemed to take this imbecilic behaviour in his stride.
“Oh yes,” Tim replied cheerfully, and without batting an eyelid at the prospect of renting his posh apartment to a complete madman. “There are lots of Tims, Toms and Rickys in Holland.”
“That’s really interesting,” said I. I cringed.
I was so happy that my holiday booking was completely normal that I wanted to wrap my arms around Tim and hug him warmly. But I think he might have got the wrong idea and called the Guardia Civil.
Amid a police cash crisis, will something have to give?
No doubt Martin Lewis would have had something sharp to say about my laissez-faire approach to holiday bookings. And I also wondered what the Scottish police would have made of me had I lost my money. Especially after I read the small print in Police Scotland’s online “Victims of Fraud” leaflet.
There is a section about renting property. “Don’t part with money until you have viewed the property and verified the identity of the landlord,” the police warn with great common sense.
Hard to do when going through an emotional roller coaster of trying to save a Spanish holiday from collapse.
Police Scotland urge people to call them on 101 if they are victims of fraud. But I wonder how much financial resource is going into this service after north-east councillors were warned by a senior officer just over a week ago that police budgets were under enormous strain.
Even 999 calls might take longer to deal with, they were told. So, what chance would a holiday fraud have?
I called 101 a while ago when I thought some drunken students were about to fall to their deaths off a high pub roof. The 101 call handler tried to tell me it wasn’t a police matter. I argued to the contrary and, when the real cops turned up, they assured me it was very much a police matter.
I formed a distinct impression that 101 existed to stop the public bothering the police.
How are things now, amid a police cash crisis? Even Inspector Clouseau would suspect something doesn’t add up about police budgets, especially after the SNP’s Keith Brown boasted a few months ago that massive extra resources were being invested.
I don’t know how many steps it’s going to take for certain police functions to stop working, but fewer than 38 or 39, I would imagine.
David Knight is the long-serving former deputy editor of The Press and Journal
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