A funny thing happened the other day...

Do you remember the tv adverts from the 70s and 80s? The ones for Cadbury's Milk Tray. A man dressed in black would leap from a helicopter, swim through shark infested waters, scale the side of a sheer cliff, drop over a high garden wall to a house where he would shin up the trellis and climb into the lady's bedroom window and all so he could leave a box of chocolates and a rose on a table by the side of her bed. Yes, I know times have changed, and the lady would probably sue the guy for making her eat chocolate and put on weight, but bear with me. (It might even be the lady leaving the chocs for the man!)

Anyway I was reminded of the advert the other day.

We were staying with a friend and just about to go to Cheltenham for an afternoon event at the literary festival. The usual rush. I know how you ladies like to look your best and the time it can sometimes take. The front door was slammed shut, we were sat in the car and just about to set off when you suddenly hear those dreaded words, "Oh no, I've picked up the wrong keys. I haven't got a door key. We're locked out." (Note the use of the word "we" when what she meant was "she was locked out". It was her house!)

Sure enough "we" were! Locked out.

A search through her cavernous handbag confirmed the worse. No keys. Just about everything else you could wish for but no keys or anything useful for breaking and entering. (There was half a packet of biscuits in case "we" were a long time breaking in and got hungry).
"I may have left the bedroom window unlatched and you can push the lower pane up. I do that in case I lose my keys. There's a ladder in the garage."

Only the garage was locked and, yes you have guessed, the garage key is in the house. So "we" began knocking on neighbour's doors to borrow a ladder. Now it's not often a ladder is too long but the one we managed to borrow was. Great for gaining access via the chimney, not the bedroom window.

Now the bedroom window in question also happened to have a stone windowsill festooned with flower troughs. A colourful and lovely sweet scented display in summer but a bit of a barrier for anyone wishing to climb in or elope. Anyway I, not "we", managed to get the lower window open but because of the size of the window (and the length of the ladder, remember) meant I had to crawl in forwards. Cue gales of laughter from down below at the sight of a pair of legs slowly disappearing less than elegantly through the opening and into the bedroom.
It was never like that in those adverts. Still I didn't leave any chocolates or a rose by the lady's bedside either, just a set of dirty handprints on the carpet.

We did, however, manage to make it to our event at the festival on time!

It was beginning to smell. Even driving along with the windows right down there was a definite pong starting to climb up my nostrils and slowly irritate the back of my throat. A heady aroma of rotting vegetables and a half eaten fish pie from the other night. The empty yoghourt cartons, stale bread and congealed pasta were mild in comparison.

"You've missed the turning, it can't be this far."

We were doing a favour for a friend we were staying with. Taking some rubbish to the tip because the bin was full. She hadn't put the bin out and the bins were only emptied every two weeks. We had been doing a bit of gardening too and some older garden rubbish added to the melange. Only now it was a sunny day and getting warmer and smellier by the minute. We were lost deep in the countryside, not a village, town or tip in sight.

"Why don't you turn round."

"Well, I'm sure if we carry on the road is bound to loop round and back to%u2026.."

"If you carry on much further we can take it to the tip back at home, if we're not overcome by the whiff first! I thought you knew where you were going and she'd given you directions?"

"I did, she did, but she doesn't drive and you know what females and directions are like."

You know instantly when you have put your foot in it. I was up to about the knee by now and sinking. The sisterhood always stuck together. Their sense of direction and map reading skills in a car are second to none. It's just they sometimes take a scenic route or slight detour because it's a nice way to go. I would never ever dare suggest they were talking so much they missed the signpost or turning.

"And if you didn't just keep on going, and stopped, perhaps asked for directions. Whoops, men don't do that, stop and ask for directions. Oh no, it's the caveman hunter instinct. You always know where you are and the way home. Well, we're not going home, we're going to the tip so stop at the next town and I will get out and ask!"

"Don't be long, smell gets worse when you stop."

So we stopped and got directions and found the tip was 3 miles up the road and you couldn't miss it.

"See," I said triumphantly, "told you we'd find it!"

You look forward to the weekend and Saturday, usually. Saturday morning; perhaps a brief lie in before going out somewhere, shopping or a coffee maybe, or getting on with something you have been meaning to do for ages. Decisions, decisions. Not today! It was just after 6:00 AM and not yet light when my 'hurrah it's Saturday' started. A figure silently tiptoed into our bedroom.

"Dad, there's water dripping through the ceiling onto my bedroom floor."

Well, it's better than any alarm clock, I can tell you. It saves you from a lie in and the agonies of pondering where to go or what to do. Suddenly there I was hastily pulling on a few clothes, dragging the step ladder out of the garage and climbing into the loft to see what was what. It was the feeder tank for the hot water system leaking from the bottom, so it was no good just turning the water off. We hastily found buckets and formed a 2 man chain passing them up and down from the loft to empty the damn thing, and they hold a lot of water I can tell you! Still we managed to stop the immediate leak and fortunately there was little actual damage done. We had caught it in time or rather my son had. Usually he sleeps through thunderstorms and earthquakes.

However, have you ever tried getting hold of a plumber on a Saturday morning? It's not easy!

"...this is the answerphone for..please leave a message after the tone."

Or the 24 hour emergency service...no reply.

"Well, I'm busy till Tuesday", said another.

"Sorry, my husband's gone shooting this morning." Now you have to admit that's different. I hope it was not former customers.

"Oh, he cant come today. He's changing a relative's radiator."

And finally...the guy whose advert boasts 'No job too small'. "Ooooh sorry, sounds like you will need a new tank fitting. That's too big a job for me."

Eventually after an hour on the phone I found one and it turns out his Aunt lives round the corner. "I'll be round in half an hour." And he was. He's in the loft now, new tank's in place and almost finished!

So that's my Saturday morning. How was yours?

Antony was born in Saltburn-by-the-sea in North Yorkshire, later spending his formative years in Cambridgeshire and Lincolnshire before returning to his native Yorkshire. For over 35 years he worked for a major UK High Street bank across the north of England before leaving to work for several Government Agencies.

Now living in Yorkshire between the Dales and the Moors Antony has discovered the pleasures of writing using his business experiences to enrich his story telling. Short stories with a deftness of touch, humour and the occasional twist in the tale he also writes articles on a variety of subjects including travel, history, places of interest and with the occasional verse of poetry.

Following the recent publication of his first story in the Dalesman magazine "A Funny Thing Happened" is Antony's first Amazon Kindle book, with more promised soon.

His interests include walking, taking photographs, reading, history and travel.