I don't go out very often (ah, how sad I hear you cry), but on Saturday I had agreed to go to a work reunion. This had been in the making for a couple of months and although not particularly a party person, I decided that I needed to get out of my comfort zone and attend.
Arrangements had been made for a friend to pick me up at 7.30 pm; I was ready by seven and twiddling my thumbs, so at 7.20 or thereabouts I decided that I would go and wait outside. All dressed up and ready, I went to open my flat door and that is when disaster struck. The door handle came off in my hand and I was stuck! Let me just explain a little about my quirky little flat in the house that is converted into two upstairs flats and mine downstairs. Not ever having been very good at science, I am not sure how it all works, but suffice to say that if no-one has been out of their own doors or come in the main front door, a vacuum is formed and my door does not open without a great deal of pulling. This has not been a problem in the past as I have had a separate handle to pull, alongside the locking mechanism, to open the door. Are you beginning to get the picture? So, there I was, looking stupidly at this door handle now nestling snugly in my hand, with the slow realisation that I could be in trouble. (I couldn't screw it back on again as it had actually snapped at the screws!) I was right; I tried to open the door by just pulling on the lock and it was having nothing of it. I was well and truly stuck. Fortunately for me, because I had been so judicious in being early, I had a few minutes to formulate a plan; however I completely panicked and couldn't think of anything other than "I'm stuck in here and my friend is just about to turn up!"
Practising what I preach, I took a couple of deep breaths and started to clear my head; this didn't stop me from running around in circles like a headless chicken, but I did realise that Ellie, who lives upstairs with her husband and young child, was in. Never have I been so grateful that the floor above is wooden and not concrete (I have often rued the day that I live downstairs when the little boy stomps across the floor or they drop open the bed settee and I think it is coming through the ceiling - but not right at this moment!). I have an eureka moment and decide that if I bang on my ceiling and call for help then Ellie might hear me. Of course I actually need something to be able to reach my seven foot high ceiling, as well as bang on it. I just happen to have a metal pole that does the job perfectly.You can ask me why I have a four foot metal pole in my little flat later.... So, without further ado I bang on the ceiling and yell "hello". I didn't want to believe that she didn't hear me the first time but she obviously didn't as I had to repeat the task. Eventually she came down the stairs with toddler in her arms. I explained my predicament and asked her to just push the door as I had already put in on the latch. Nothing happened. There was nothing for it but to pass my door keys out of the window so that she could open the door from the outside. At last! I was free and not a moment too soon as my friend passed by in the car. I merely pulled the door closed behind me and decided that I needed to forget about what I was going to do when I got back home.
I had a lovely evening out and met up with work colleagues who I had not seen for years. Although we only stayed a couple of hours, I did have a great time but the following day I felt very stiff in my arm and didn't understand why. Suddenly it dawned on me that I had been holding a glass at ninety degrees to my body for the whole time! Guess I have been reading too many stories about spiked drinks! But let's get back to the business in hand - now that I was home, how could I ensure that I would be able to get out on the Sunday morning to go to church? Necessity being the mother of invention, I found some string and made several big loops to fit right around the length of the door. I have to say that it looked completely ridiculous, but it worked a treat!
A phone call to my landlord's handyman had him running to me by lunchtime on Monday with a nice big strong cast iron handle. He said to me that it wouldn't come off in a hurry. My reply was that it would probably take the whole door off its hinges instead!
I hope that you have managed to have a little smile at my expense, and I would leave you with a rejoinder that it would be a sorry state affairs if one can't laugh at oneself. I will not mention that it has only taken me all my life to be able to do this.....
Hope you come back regularly to see other snippets of useless information, burning issues that drive me demented and just my view of life in general.
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