We managed to lock ourselves out of the flat today, which could have been a mild to incredible disaster, but it all worked out well in the end. I wanted to say that now so that you don’t worry too much. This is a happy ending story.
Being klutzy and ditzy and every kind of zy, I have lots of locked myself out stories. It’s a talent. Today however, miraculously, was not my fault.
Stuart’s folks had crashed here last night after we had gone to dinner. Before we left this morning for breakfast, I asked Stuart if he had his keys because I wasn’t bringing mine.
“Yes,” Stuart said. Like an idiot, I assumed that he had heard and comprehended my question.
After breakfast, after we walked back, standing outside the flat, Stuart asked me for my keys.
“You know I don’t have my keys.”
“What?”
“I asked you to bring yours. I don’t have mine on me.”
“You’re being funny. Get out your keys.”
“Stuart, quit joking.”
“I’m not joking. I don’t have them. You must have yours.”
“I DON’T have mine. I told you to bring yours!” I turn to Desma and Rob, Stu’s parents. They nodded.
“You said you had the keys.” Rob said.
Stuart and I stared at each other. I had a small brain aneurism. “You got to be fucking. . .” I turned to Desma and Rob, “Sorry.” Back to Stu. “You have GOT to be FUCKING kidding me.”
We looked at the flat trying to work out a break in plan. Through some miracle we had left the window in the front room open. We (I should say Stuart because I have been known to leave it open by accident at night) never leave the window in the front room open even though it is on the 2nd floor because of fear that some hoodie will be walking by with a ladder, break in, slit our throats and steal our television set. Luckily we had left it open so we could break in to our own place. All we needed was a ladder.
Off Rob and Stuart scattered in search of a ladder outside one of the many loft conversions in our neighborhood.
Our next-door neighbors that live below us opened the door obviously leaving to go somewhere. When she heard that we were locked out, the woman offered to let us into their flat to have a cup of tea, which may be the sweetest and most English thing I have ever heard in my entire life. They even gave us their keys in case we weren’t able to break in so we could hang out in their place.
A short while later, Rob returned with a ladder that he lifted from a building site that Desma found, climbed up through the window and opened the doors. HUZZAH!
Rob left to return the ladder to the house where he had borrowed it and right when I was calling Stuart to let him know we were in, he arrived with a ladder under his arm.
“You’re in?” He sounded disappointed.
“Hey, was just calling you.”
“You’re in?”
“Yes. . .”
“But I have a ladder.”
“Should I go outside and lock ourselves out again?”
“How did you get in?”
“Your dad found a ladder.”
“Where?”
“Loft conversion on the next street.”
“Oh.” He definitely was disappointed.
“Where did you find your ladder Stuart?”
“The pub.”
We just thought it was funny that he went to -and found what was needed at the pub.
September 17th, 2007 at 12:11 am
Oh MY!!!! LOL! The pub!!! He would have been back before Dad if he hadn’t stopped for a pint…..
Still LOL -
by the way who climbed up to
the second story?
Love from the American Mum