I was put up for the night. Nice big house, great king size bed, lovely people. It felt great after a struggling week.
In the morning the house was empty. Only the fridge moan reminded me the house was habitated. Then the door bell went. I ran to the door to get the parcel which had been mentioned the day before. As i signed for the delivery, a terrible noise thundered behind me. The parcel in my hand, I turned to discover the door had slammed closed… As in locked closed… As in I was locked out in my bright pink flamingo socks and t-shirt, with no phone. First a wave of disbelief overwhelmed me, then anger, to end in utter panic. What the fuck do I do now, I yelled at myself. It was a typical Glaswegian day, raining, so I took off my socks (the good things you learn from watching Bear Grylls or other mental programs on television) and began to run round the house. I knew everything was closed but may as well try. So there I was, going round the house like a hysterical creature telling myself how stupid I was. Alas, no way to get into the house… Except from breaking a window but, first my hosts would not appreciate it, and second I would probably break my elbow first on the double glazing. My feet were cold, wet and began to ache on the gravel. Back at the front door, I wiped the blood and dirt with my dry socks when I noticed a little cupboard. Yes! What did I see ? No not a key but three lovely pairs of flowery wellie boot. I grabbed a pair to slip them onto my feet, I think they might have been two different sizes but this wasn’t the time to be fussy. I took the damned parcel and went to the neighbors. What do I say to not sound insane since I already look like a lost looney, I wondered. Just be natural, as I stood in a little t shirt, multicolored flowery wellie boots in December. I rang the door bell and a woman in her mid thirties opened up. A little boy in a bright red jumper was hidden behind her legs, peering out from time to time. I explained the entire situation and asked if, by chance, she had my host’s phone number. The woman looked through a big wooden box filled with papers and pulled out a little sheet. On it, were the phone numbers of my host’s parents/the grand parents. It was better than nothing and I knew they didn’t live too far. So I phoned the granddad’s mobile. It rang, rang, rang, rang, dear lord what am I going to do if… Hello? a voice said on the other end of the phone. Once again I embarrassingly describe the situation. He replied, he was on the train into town. I am fucked, was the immediate thought that came to mind. But, he said, go down the road and ask A. to give you the spare key. Hope was back in town ! I hang up, and the woman kindly lent my a big warm black fluffy coat to walk down the road. I followed the granddad’s instructions to get to his house, still the parcel in my hand. I got there without any trouble and found myself describing the situation a third time to A., as she giggle and sipped her tea. What a lovely woman, I was telling myself, the spare key tingling in her hand. I got back down the road and… Opened the front door, the warmth was so enjoyable. I sprayed the neighbor’s coat with perfum, I get quite sweaty when I worry, and grabbed a little christmas chocolate. I headed back to her house (without forgetting the keys) to thank her and her little boy.
What a morning, gets the blood flowing….