9
The day had been a washout, as far as Jack Culverhouse was concerned. It had started late, as it was. The visit to Hilltop Farm had been less than successful, and he’d spent the rest of the afternoon writing up more sodding paperwork. He estimated that for every hour spent doing some actual work, he’d spend another two writing reports about it. It was one of the things that wound him up about modern policing. To him, paperwork and filing were for office managers and secretaries; police officers did policing.
The job had become increasingly bureaucratic over the years. The fairly recent introduction of politically elected Police and Crime Commissioners had almost tipped him over the edge. Not only was he answerable to red tape and desk-bound management, but he now had politicians breath
