Worst of best friends

This week I can expose myself as a cat burglar. I announce this new career path with both a sense of pride and shame. I've done a spot of breaking and entering - but because the thing I broke then entered was my friends' home, I'm not exactly sure of the legalities.

Like the majority of burglaries, it happened in the wee hours of Sunday night. Unlike your run-of-the-mill burglar, I couldn't have cared less about plasma TVs or shiny jewels, I was only after a bottle of wine.

It's just a terrible pity that the bottle I nicked off with was a 2003 pinot noir, gifted to my friends after the birth of their firstborn son. Gifted to them by a winemaker no less. Suffice to say, it was a special bottle of wine.

If I'm to lay a finger of blame, I suppose it was Steve and Hayley's fault for entrusting me with a key to their home. Up until 2am last Sunday, I would have said it made sense for me to possess their spare key; we are neighbours and I am a constant visitor.

In return, they have a key to my home (but the only time they've ever used it on the sly was during a fruitless search for mushrooms).

Me, on the other hand, I use their key all the time but usually when they are A) at home, and B) awake.

I realise now I've tested some boundaries.

The neighbours were having a quiet night at the end of their swine flu bell curve while I had people over for dinner. Unfortunately, we ran out of wine and I am a resourceful woman by nature.

I remember weighing up the moralities. I had no problem with stealing their booze, nor was I worried about breaking into their home, my main concern was not to give them a fright so I crept up their hallway with great stealth (all the while noting that Hayley was breathing quite heavily for a woman).

And please don't think of me as selfish. I was also returning a couple of recipe books.

Bear in mind, these people have four young children and wake at the slightest sound of a cough or a cry. I knew I'd wake them up if I turned on a light so every movement and grope for wine was done soundlessly under the dim light of a microwave clock.

Using the kitchen braille of doorknobs and pantry handles, I found the cupboard, opened it gently and squatted while rummaging for wine- shaped bottles.

Unfortunately, my night raid coincided with their shopping day so the bottle area was cluttered with a crown pumpkin, three kumara and a sack of spuds.

My fingers snaked past the winter vegetables and clutched at a sturdy bottle.

Safe once again, in the light of my own lounge, I could see this wine had a real cork. Somewhere in my subconscious, I knew it was special.

I may be a criminal but I'm not without a code of respect. I rang them in the morning to confess.

"What wine was it?" Hayley asked.

"A red one," I answered.

"Oh, the one we were saving for our 10th anniversary?"

Apparently there were a couple of cheap wines in the fridge and the special pinot was flanked by two other cheapies.

They are partly annoyed, partly amused and partly astounded at my brilliant burglary skills.

I can't even promise this will never happen again. All I can hope for is that they start putting the good wine towards the back of the pantry and maybe surround it with a decent pile of crown pumpkins.

- © Fairfax NZ News