The Keys & the Double Drenching…
Let me explain how I had an impromptu drenching for the second time in two days.
Yesterday I waved goodbye to my husband as I set off on some errands. My last words, ‘Take the key out the door and I’ll let myself back in.’
I should have known that there may be some issues ahead. Keys and my husband have a history. Granted, usually, it is because he loses them but, that is another story.
Within the hour, I returned and was unable to put my key in the lock. I quickly realised that he must have forgotten my request. Smiling to myself, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called him. I knew he was in, I could hear the music, but that turned out to be the problem. He could also hear the music, and nothing else.
After about 10 minutes of standing in the drizzle, I managed to grab his attention by a combination of mobile and landline calls.
Oh, how we laughed as he apologised for his mistake.
This morning we awoke to leaden skies and constant rain. But this didn’t deter him from a brisk walk with one of our two dogs, Floyd, the chocolate labrador.
I made a fresh cup of coffee and enjoyed the company of our other dog, Pugwash, whilst reflecting on the wise decision I had made.
About an hour later he returned, I opened the door and stepped outside to grab Floyd and wash him down.
Once Floyd was clean, I tried to enter the house to pick up his towel, but the door remained shut. I tried again, nothing. Floyd and I looked at each other. I smiled down at him reassuringly then attempted opening the door for a third time with a little more force. Once again, nothing.
On tiptoes, I peered through the glass at the top of the door, expecting to see my husband making coffee and oblivious to my plight. All I could see was my phone on the kitchen table and Pugwash looking out at me anxiously.
Great. Now I couldn’t call either. Still patting Floyd’s soggy head, I rapped, repeatedly on the door, to no avail.
By this time, I was almost as wet as Floyd, and he had been swimming in a local reservoir.
I then had a heart sink moment when I heard the boiler click into action, and it dawned on me that my husband was now running a bath. It appears that walking around a reservoir in a waterproof coat requires a nice warming bath on your return. Whereas standing outside in a t-shirt and jumper is perfectly fine.
It was around now that I realised my right foot was wet. Not an ideal time to discover you have a hole in your shoe, so I was now getting wet from the head down and right foot up.
After more knocking on the door, I decided it was useless and stomped down the cellar steps to keep out of the rain whilst I waited out his bath. I did invite Floyd to join me but, he chose to remain perched on the backstep, forlornly staring into the middle distance.
It was with great joy that I heard the water from the bath cascading down the waste pipe and, I immediately returned to my door-knocking vigil.
TWENTY-FIVE minutes later, he returned to the kitchen.
He was greeted by my face, bedraggled and pressed up against the window, as I balanced on the step with aching calf muscles.
Smiling, he walked over and unlocked the door, ‘What are you doing out there?’
Floyd and I walked past him and I reached for the towel…
