Antony Waller
Submissions Editor, RBU: The Group Blog
A Shimmering of Northern Light
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!
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