Let me explain a detail that is significant to this story. If you came to see us, from the street, you would step through a little picket gate. (You can see some of this through the glass in the first picture.) We have a few square feet of private property surrounded by a hedge/fence that separates our front door from the street. This is where our big garbage bins sit to the side of the house.
To enter the house, you first go through what we have started calling the "model door". It's very skinny. This picture might help. The door is on that opens from the centre, and we typically just open the one side, leaving the other one bolted at the top and bottom. However, it sometimes gets a bit tricky when you have grocery bags or a suitcase, in which case, we would open both sides. (Side story: We had a plumber stop by to check our boiler. He had a good belly, and he squeezed through the door and looked at me, saying, "Do you never have fat people visit you?")
After going through the model door, we have a little entryway about two feet deep. This is where we keep our recycling boxes and that is also where our postbox is. Then you go through the second door, which is below.
Both of our doors automatically lock when closed and require a key to open them from the outside. You can set the locking mechanism to not work by flipping a button, but I always forget about that. It's not the best idea, because it would be very easy to burgle the door then. We are pretty careful to keep doors and windows locked in our neighborhood, because, well....it's London.
So Joanne takes her rubbish out and I'm at the entryway between the two doors and I remembered that sometimes the wind catches the outside door and slams it shut. So, I did the smart thing and waited there so I could hold the door open until Joanne was back inside. Good thinking, right? Except that I had opened the kitchen door that leads into the garden, forgetting that it produces a lovely cross breeze through our house. Yes. You guessed it. The inside door slammed closed before I could get to it.
Joanne and I just looked at each other in shock.
Laura had just left for the afternoon, so there was no one in the house. We are always really good about locking all the doors and windows. Our phones were in the house. Our keys were in the house. We had no idea if our landlords would be home, because they both work and their kids are in school. Both Joanne and I do not have anyone's number memorized, just saved in our mobiles. I had banana bread in the oven and guests coming over in an hour.
Suddenly, we remembered our saving grace. The whole reason this had happened was because I had opened the kitchen door, which led into our enclosed garden! If we could only get into the garden, we could get back into the house! There was a side gate, but it only bolted from the inside, so somehow, we knew we would need to open this.
I did what any girl who grew up rock climbing in the African bush would do. I climbed up on top of our garbage bins to see if I could reach over the top to unbolt the gate.
The bolt is on the other side of the gate behind the bins. Now, you can't see it, but there are two inch metal spikes on top of that gate to stop people from doing the very thing I'm attempting to do. Even standing on the bins, the top of that gate was about at my waist. Also, I live on a pretty busy street. Lots of crazy things happen in Leytonstone, and this morning, I became one of those crazy things. Have a good laugh as you picture me on top of those bins. I had been cleaning and baking, and hadn't showered yet. I was wearing black running pants with a pink waistband, and a yellow and white tank top, and bright blue flip flops. I still had my glasses on and my hair pulled up in a crazy ponytail. And I was balancing on two rubbish bins, trying to break into my own back garden, while Joanne spotted me from the ground.
The first couple who walked by tried not to stare. They really tried, bless their hearts. But it must have been a sight to see. The second woman pushing a buggy couldn't help herself. I don't think anyone else felt self conscious about looking. Fortunately, most people either 1) have seen us around enough to recognize us and know they don't need to call the police or 2) really can't be bothered . I don't even know what the people in cars driving by were thinking.
Well, it quickly became apparent that I could not get to the bolt to undo it from my position. I hopped down from the bins, and we went around to the side of the house, to see if I could hop the fence back there. Joanne was wearing a skirt, so there was no way she could do any of this. Besides, she's probably more sane than I am and wouldn't even consider otherwise. Same problem of the spikes, and the fact that it would be a good 8 foot drop from the top of the fence into our garden. I didn't want a broken ankle, and Joanne didn't want that either, so that plan was nixed. The garage was locked, so we couldn't go in that way.
Then, inspiration struck and I realized that though our garden fence is quite high, it is only high on one side, the street side. The second side is just our house, the third side is the garage wall, and the fourth side we share with our neighbors. We could easily hop that if we could get to our neighbor's garden. However, neither Joanne or I had met our neighbors.
Keith and Pam are very nice. We ran their bell, introduced ourselves and explained our dilemma. They didn't even laugh too much. They let us into the garden, I hopped the fence, trying not to smash Pam's flowers or our...well, weeds, and then I dashed into the kitchen and through the house to let Joanne in.
Then we just laughed for a bit. The banana bread was still needing more time in the oven, and I dashed around vacuuming and trying to get things ready for when Paul and Claire came over for tea. And life returned to normal. Now, the next thing I need to do is make copies of my keys so we have them to hide outside! In retrospect, I've realized that at least we know it takes a lot of commitment, skill, and effort to break into our house :)
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