Peripheral
Dedicated Member
THE KEY.
Let me see now, did I tell you about the time that I locked myself out of the house and spent hours trying to get back in? How can he lock himself out of the house I hear you say? If he goes out of the door and locks the door then he must have the key in his hand. That is true BUT, just as I was turning to walk up the drive, the postman arrived. He handed me a pile of begging letters from the Electric Board and the Gas Board, both companies wanting my money. I turned and pushed the letters through the letter box but, unbeknownsed to me, {good old Yorkshire saying}, funny word that is isn't it? Unbeknownsed, I really must stop using that word because it gives me hypothermia in my typing finger. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was pushing the letters through the letter box. What I didn't realize was that I also posted the front door key with the letters. I didn't become aware of this till I had finished what I went out to do. Actually, I had pooped, OOPS, popped round to Bertha Enwrights house to help her turn her bed round 90 degrees so that the street light didn't shine in her eyes when she turned in for the night. I asked her why she didn't put some curtains up but she said that she wanted to see what the dirty old man across the street was doing in his bedroom when his bedroom light kept flashing on and off. She thought he might be up to his naughties with some floozy. Actually, she was talking about Alfred Simpson, a guy who kept in touch with his friend who lived three streets away but whose house could be seen from Alfred's home. Alfred wasn't being naughty, he was just keeping in touch with his friend by switching the light on and off, I.E. morse..... I've gone off at a tangent here haven't I. Turning the bed with Bertha is another story. ... I returned home and fished for the key in my pocket. Of course it wasn't there because I had inadvertently posted it. I stood there contemplating and eventually it dawned on me what I had done. The key was on the entrance hall floor. Being a resourceful man I applied my grey matter as to how I was going to retrieve it. Eventually, I came up with the idea of buying some chewing gum, having a quick tooth bashing chew, sticking the gum on the end of a garden cane, poking it through the letter box and hopefully get the key stuck on the gum. After 35 minutes of dragging all of my mail out, ???? how did that Avon book get there? After 35 minutes, I finally had the key stuck to the gum on the end of the cane. I eased it through the letter box and decided there and then to have a duplicate key made. I promptly drove into town and left my key to be duplicated. They told me it would be ready in 30 minutes. All this effort had left somewhat kippered so I had a snooze in the car. When I woke up it was 6:30 PM and all the shops were shut. Mmm, does anyone have a spare bed?.
Let me see now, did I tell you about the time that I locked myself out of the house and spent hours trying to get back in? How can he lock himself out of the house I hear you say? If he goes out of the door and locks the door then he must have the key in his hand. That is true BUT, just as I was turning to walk up the drive, the postman arrived. He handed me a pile of begging letters from the Electric Board and the Gas Board, both companies wanting my money. I turned and pushed the letters through the letter box but, unbeknownsed to me, {good old Yorkshire saying}, funny word that is isn't it? Unbeknownsed, I really must stop using that word because it gives me hypothermia in my typing finger. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was pushing the letters through the letter box. What I didn't realize was that I also posted the front door key with the letters. I didn't become aware of this till I had finished what I went out to do. Actually, I had pooped, OOPS, popped round to Bertha Enwrights house to help her turn her bed round 90 degrees so that the street light didn't shine in her eyes when she turned in for the night. I asked her why she didn't put some curtains up but she said that she wanted to see what the dirty old man across the street was doing in his bedroom when his bedroom light kept flashing on and off. She thought he might be up to his naughties with some floozy. Actually, she was talking about Alfred Simpson, a guy who kept in touch with his friend who lived three streets away but whose house could be seen from Alfred's home. Alfred wasn't being naughty, he was just keeping in touch with his friend by switching the light on and off, I.E. morse..... I've gone off at a tangent here haven't I. Turning the bed with Bertha is another story. ... I returned home and fished for the key in my pocket. Of course it wasn't there because I had inadvertently posted it. I stood there contemplating and eventually it dawned on me what I had done. The key was on the entrance hall floor. Being a resourceful man I applied my grey matter as to how I was going to retrieve it. Eventually, I came up with the idea of buying some chewing gum, having a quick tooth bashing chew, sticking the gum on the end of a garden cane, poking it through the letter box and hopefully get the key stuck on the gum. After 35 minutes of dragging all of my mail out, ???? how did that Avon book get there? After 35 minutes, I finally had the key stuck to the gum on the end of the cane. I eased it through the letter box and decided there and then to have a duplicate key made. I promptly drove into town and left my key to be duplicated. They told me it would be ready in 30 minutes. All this effort had left somewhat kippered so I had a snooze in the car. When I woke up it was 6:30 PM and all the shops were shut. Mmm, does anyone have a spare bed?.
