At our weekly catch up my friends and I got on to the subject of keys, when Fiona posed the question what age do you think kids should be given their own house key?

It turned out Fiona’s granddaughter had celebrated her thirteenth birthday and was adamant she was now old enough to have her own key.

Opinions varied until Mae regaled us with her experience of having her very own house key.

“When I was fourteen my mum and dad agreed I was now responsible enough to have my own back door key to let myself come and go whilst they were out.”

We had an inkling as to where this story might be going as she continued.

“The first day I got the key I returned home and frantically searched everywhere but couldn’t find it.”

Apparently Mae was in a bit of a panic at the pending wrath of her mum and dad for losing the key the first day she was entrusted with it.

“I knew my mum would never trust me again if she found out so I decided to take drastic action.”

We wondered what was coming next.

“I noticed that the kitchen window was open slightly so climbed up and on to the narrow window ledge.”

I was imagining Mae perched on the ledge as she added.

“Balancing half in, half out the small window I tried to steady myself by grabbing hold of the kitchen curtains.”

“But…..unfortunately for me they ripped off the rail and I went flying head first into the kitchen whilst smashing every piece of crockery on the draining board.”

Mae took a breath and added.

“My knees were scrapped to bits, smashed crockery was scattered everywhere, but worst of all…………”

“My dad appeared standing over me waving my missing backdoor key and wondering what the heck had just happened.”

According to Mae that was the one and only day she was allowed a house key until she was eighteen.

Mae’s tale jolted my memory of the day my colleague Brian accidentally locked himself out of his Victorian house.

According to Brian he left work with a blazing migraine and wanted nothing more than to get into bed, draw the curtains and sleep away his bursting head.

On arrival at his front door he searched and emptied every pocket but unfortunately for him there was no sign of his house keys.

Deciding they must be in his car, he then took that apart but found nothing.

Aware that no one else had a spare key, Brian realised there was only one option.

He would need to break in to his own house.

But, on scanning the old building he noted that all of his bay windows were too high up and he didn’t have a ladder or anything tall enough to reach.

Through the dense mist of his agonising migraine, Brian came up with the bright idea of squeezing himself through his letterbox.

Now, I wondered how this was possible but Brian explained that it was more like a hatch than a letterbox, and that as he was of slight build, he reckoned it just might be possible to squeeze through.

After all. What choice did he have?

Dragging a wooden garden chair to the door gave Brian just enough height to reach the giant letterbox.

However, no matter how he twisted and turned, he struggled to squeeze his shoulders through the hole.

That’s when he had another bright idea.

If he removed his bulky clothing, he might just make it.

Layer by layer he stripped till finally he was left with just his underpants, sock and shoes.

Now almost naked, somehow Brian managed to get one shoulder through the hole, and after contorting this way and that, he squeezed the other shoulder through as well.

“Bingo,” he thought.

But the drama was far from over.

Half in, half out, Brian found himself wedged in the giant letterbox with nothing to grab on to on the inside and his skinny white legs frantically dangling mid-air on the outside!

Finally, giving in to sheer desperation he had no option but to yell for help.

“Bloody hell.” The postie screeched when he clapped eyes on a half-naked man sticking out of a giant letterbox.

According to Brian his arms stopped the postie pulling him back out, so the postie had no choice but to ‘post’ Brian through his own letterbox!

Brian dropped five foot on to the stone floor and luckily for him the only thing that was shattered was his ego.

The good news was his chronic migraine had disappeared and it transpired that his house keys were found deep in the lining of his jacket.

A year later Brian found himself stranded outside his bedroom window after deciding to wash the windows himself, but that’s another story……..

Do you have any stories of being locked out, or even, locked in?

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