so i get in at 5(ish) to find the painter (who was doin my railings out back of my home) had accidently hit the deadlock on my front door.
so when my key went in the lock to turn, it wouldn’t budge.
whilst remaining cool and composed on the outside I cried like a little girl and held my breath until I turned blue and colapsed. Would I really have to hassle my neighbours to let me climb ‘Spidey’ style across their balcony to mine?
Now picture me clambering up the brickwork to squeeze through the top half of the kitchen window I’d left open. This is where the story ends.
With my crown jewels parted by split level white facia double glazing, I whinced as I fumbled around with one foot trying to find best placement position on the sink (full of dirty crockery), balancing with the other foot outside the window on a 3″ windowsill, and leaning ever-so-gently further and further with my hand towards the corner of the upright fridge-freezer. At this point I wished I took off my backpack, to ease the aerodynamics of my window contortion antics. One slip and I’d fall forever to my doom, towards a 24″ heavily laidened pedal bin of unfragrant disposition.
needless to say … as I am writing in the ‘past tense’ that I made the ‘challenge’ and sprung from the worktop like a ninja freeing himself from a tight grip or an agile teenager leaping from a shopping trolley chariot prior to an embarrassing rollypolly risking scuffed elbows and possibly the spillage of blood.
The rest of the evening went well. I met friends, wined and dined til the late hours whilst discussing the merits of passing a cycling test at the expense of mickey taking during early school and chuckling over annecdotes of camping in the rain drinking homemade beer.