The Key to the Castle

I had another ‘old codger’ moment earlier today frown emoticon. I’d been clearing out the accumulated crap from my bedroom very early and come across one of those neck-ribbon jobbies that you get at music festivals so you can wear your entrance ticket.

This one was from a lovely little local Festival close to my home town of
Stevenage, the ‘Rhythms of the World’ festival, in a fetching shade of mauve.

‘Aha!!!’ Thinks I, ‘I’ll put my keyring onto it, and then tie it off to my belt-loop’. I’ve managed to lock myself out a couple of times just recently, so it seemed a REALLY GOOD eyed-dear.

And then I spotted my spare carkey and what looked like the spare front-door key, both on pristine keyrings. So I took off the knackered keyring with my front door from my bunch of keys, and popped on the new one.

At 6.25am, my son tells me he was running late for work, and begged a lift in, so off we went. Came back to the house after dropping him off, and was pleased to see that the neck-ribbon jobbie was long enough to open the front door without any undue strain, and popped my key into the lock.

Bloody door wouldn’t open.

‘Aha!!!’ thinks I, ‘It must be the back-door key’, so walked round the estate to the alley that runs along the back of the house, and tried the back-door gate. Locked, and the bolt wouldn’t budge.

‘Bugger!!!’ sez I. My son works on the nearby Army base and once he’s on base, its difficult to get hold of him. But it was now getting on for 7am, so…..

‘Aha!!!’, thinks I, ‘I’ll pop down to Asda and pick up a cheap pair of plyers!!!’. And so I did.

Got back to the house sometime later, and the small plumbing wrench I’d bought worked a real treat. Marched up to the back door, put my key in, and turned it.

Bloody door wouldn’t open.

‘Bugger, bugger, bugger!!!’ sez I.

So I sat in the garden chair for a bit and had a ponder. Sent my son a text, and headed off into the town centre to get re-enrolled at the library and figured that I’d have a pleasant morning reading a book in the warmth, as I didn’t expect my son to ring back until midday. I had a few docs that I needed to print for my upcoming court case, so  once I’d re-enrolled and paid the 30p fine that must have been outstanding for 8 years now, I plonked myself down at a PC, logged on, and put my memory stick in.

At which point, the intro to Jimi Hendrix’s Voodoo Chile filled the Library at high volume and I started to look for a large hole to bury myself in.

Couldn’t see a suitable hole in the ground. Well it WAS a bit of a long shot, being as I was on the top floor of the Library, so instead I tried to look nonchalant and logged off, and took myself off outside to respond to my son.

Not unexpectedly, I couldn’t reach him, but he’d left me a Voice message with his office number. So I rang the number and……

It went through to Voicemail.

Several ‘Bugger!!!’s later, I sent him another text and went back into the Library. Got my printing done, picked out some books and headed back for the car, then a quick call into Plod’s Palace to deliver a doc off to Mr. Plod the Policeman. Then texted my son, before driving up to the base to pick up his keys, as per his Voicemail

I got back into the house around 10.30am

So how was your day?

Joan Armatrading – The Key

the bolt wouldn’t budge.



  1. Opher · June 3, 2015

    The times you could kick yourself! – Best wishes Opher


  2. Pingback: A Tale Of Harps and Hearts | eeyorntails

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