Angel Whispers

Local Hero

My new abode is situated in what is known as a conservation area. This means any alterations to the outside of the house need planning permission from the local council to ensure things are in keeping with the appearance of the area. This is something I approve of. but trying to acquire permission to alter my exterior doors is proving a lot more complicated than I anticipated.

My house doesn't have a garden as such. It has a door at the back of the house leading into a small courtyard which is walled and fenced on all sides. This means there is no entry into it which is a bonus security wise, but a bit inconvenient for transporting things from the back to the front of the house. Once open, the door will only close if it is bolted at the top and bottom inside.

The front of the house also has a small paved area which is a sun trap and ideal for potted plants. There are two doors at the front of the property; one is an exterior storeroom and the other the main access into the house. This door has a Yale lock which means once the door closes it is locked and can only be opened with a key.

Excuse the long introduction, but it is necessary in order to relate my latest tale of disaster. My son works in housing and knows from experience how easy it is to lock yourself out with this type of door. On his sound advice I had a key cut to hide in the storeroom outside, just in case I went outside without my main key and locked myself out.

One day last week I decided to sort out my potted plants. In order to transfer one from the back of the property to the front I carried it through the lounge and out through the front door leaving the back door open. As I bent down to deposit the pot in its new position I heard a bang and realised the wind had whipped through the house from the back and blown the front door shut. Thank goodness for my son's advice I thought, secure in the knowledge it wasn't a problem with my hidden key in the storeroom.

As I turned to face the storeroom door I was suddenly reminded of something I had done the previous week in an effort to be security conscious. The storeroom holds nothing valuable, but having recently bought the grandmonsters new footballs and outdoor toys I had decided in my wisdom to purchase a padlock for the storeroom door, completely forgetting my spare house key was hidden in there. Clang. Don't panic I told myself

Where was the key to the padlock on the storeroom door? In my purse. Where was my purse? Locked in the house. Where did I put the spare key to the padlock? In a drawer in the locked up house. The next thought was to phone my son and see if he could come up with a solution and failing that come out with his key. Where was my phone? In the house. Maybe I could find a friendly neighbour and use their phone to call my son? What is my son's number? I couldn’t remember. Where is his number stored? In my phone in the house.

Still trying not to panic I decided the only solution was to see if a neighbour had a ladder and would help me climb over the backyard wall to gain access through the open back door. Not an idea I relished, but either that or call out the fire brigade at great expense and embarrassment.

It's a very quiet area where I live, but at that moment I noticed a youngish man walking across the road. After establishing he lived in a house nearby I took him round to the back of the house to show him the wall enclosing my back yard. It is at least eight feet high and covered in tangled ivy, clematis and other climbing plants. Next thing I knew he had climbed onto the wall at the end of the row and was sauntering across the top of the narrow wall without a murmur. From there he dropped into my back yard, went through the back door, across my lounge and opened the locked front door to let me in.

What a hero.

I now have a spare key hidden outside for the padlock on the storeroom door, but eagerly await the time I can change the front door to something more Scarlett/ Idiot proof.

The following day something really strange happened as a result of my lock out, but that's another story.