James and Tim went home for the weekend on Thursday, so I was home alone. Which was fine because I had lots of work to do for my essays. On Friday, I decided to head down to the Old Library on campus where you can look at a very large collection of Victorian literature. I excitedly studied a first edition of Dickens' Bleak house from 1853. In a remarkably positive frame of mind, I skipped and whistled my way out into the sunshine. As his a man's habit, I checked for my wallet. There it was. Phone. Yep. Keys...keys...ah. Ah oh. Oh. Ah. Hmmm. No keys.
So, that evening, unable to get into my house, James and Tim both at home, and any attempt to break in out of the question, I became the sixth housemate at 7 Rosebery Road hosted most kindly by Lucy and her housemates. And since the keys didn't arrive by post on Saturday morning as I'd hoped, I ended up spending the weekend there. It was a fun weekend, we had a sunday lunch at the pub today and so on, but I got no work done at all cos it was on the other side of the wall that I was on the wrong side of.
Ah well, remember to take your keys wherever you go is the obvious conclusion to draw on this occasion
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