Four seconds
As part of the 'settling in' process, I decided to lock myself out of the flat on Sunday.This was, of course, part of a brilliant plan in which I teach myself not to do such a foolish thing by making the error on a sunny Sunday afternoon, so I could wait for the locksmith whilst having a beer in the sunshine.
Overall, it cost me over a hundred quid to have a guy come round and then, to add insult to costly injury, he got into my place in less than five seconds, using a bent stick.
A bent stick. Honestly.
Jesus, I'm a burglar's dream.
Never mind, it's not like I leave the place empty five nights a... oh.
posted by Peter The Great @ 8:04 PM
2 Comments:
I know, I know, I'm waaaay behind here but a few questions:
Who the Hell said that you reminded them of Alfie Moon? (And have you now scrubbed them from your 'phone/life?)
Has the cat turned up again? (I think that she's a girl, by the way, but will (wo)manfully refrain from pussy jokes)
Is your cold better?
Did you finish 'Troubles' and isn't it the bestest novel you've read for ages?
1. I cannot divulge, but it was someone actually nice.
2. The cat has, regrettably, vanished from the vicinity.
3. A bit, I've got antibiotics.
4. No. Still on 'this is where I leave you, which I enjoy muchly'.
More later, when disease is averted.
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