Tonight I did something I hadn't done in the five years that I've lived in my flat...
I locked myself out!
I realised the second the front door slammed shut behind me. I searched through my pockets and my bag for the keys, desperately hoping I was wrong. Nope! The keys were somewhere in my flat.
I tried kicking my way into the flat (it always looks so easy in The Bill) but to no avail. I even considered trying to use my credit card to try and slip the lock but quickly realised, knowing my luck, it would only snap. There was no way back in.
Thank GOD I had my mobile in my bag. I rang the cavalry (i.e. the person who had my spare set of keys who so, so, so kindly offered to drive to my flat with them) and then texted the friend I was going to have a drink with to tell her I'd be late. She said that was okay.
I huddled up on the step outside my flat as a gale blew up my street and waited and waited and waited... (and shivered)
After fifteen minutes my friend rang back... would I get to the pub soon because she could only hang around for another hour (I was already an hour late)? As it takes half an hour from my house to the pub and my cavalry still hadn't turned up we decided to postpone and have lunch tomorrow instead. Ten minutes later the cavalry arrived and I'm now safely back in my flat (yes, the keys were in here) but no night out for me.
I need a drink. Dare I risk the off licence or am I only going to lock myself out again? Aaagh!
p.s. I blame my recent writing frenzy for my absentmindedness. Better to blame that than my own stupidity!