Weird things happen to me. Last night is just one more example… :o/
I got home from fitball, had a cup of coffee and a piece of toast and them jumped in the shower. As I was getting out and grabbing my towel, I heard frantic knocking on my front door (for those of you not familiar with the layout of Pog Towers, it’s a teeny tiny bungalow and the front door is a whole eight steps from the bathroom. It is. I just checked). It was the sort of frantic that you don’t ignore so I poked my head out the bathroom and through the glass in the door I could see what was quite clearly my neighbour and two firemen.
It went through my head that next door could be on fire, spreading to mine and they were there to get me out before they filled the house with water. I wrapped the towel round me and skidded those eight steps. Happily, it turned out that neither I nor my neighbours were on fire – the issue was in the garden of a house in the road behind that they couldn’t get into – could they come through my house, and look over my back garden fence to work out what was actually on fire?
Now I don’t go to town on my towels. I just have the normal bath towel, not an enormous sheet. I do however, have quite a sizeable bottom which, it turns out, when you rush wrapping in a towel, prefers to remain free. I was decent from the front, but my arse was hanging out of my towel at the back. There was no option. I had to say that they were very welcome to come through Pog Towers, but they would have to wait on the door step while I walked backwards to the bathroom to grab my dressing gown (so I didn’t moon them in the process). To make matters worse, I left the door ajar, they obviously didn’t understand what I’d just said and they followed me, walking backwards… I had to shoo them back out.
So that as how I ended up spending last night standing in my garden in my dressing gown with two firemen, looking at trees to try to work out exactly which house the fire belonged to. You couldn’t make it up, could you? :o)