Oh dear, what can the matter be?
Good morning dear reader and here we are again at Comb Towers on a sunny Sunday morning in the Yorkshire Wolds. I hope I find you well and ready for a splendid Sunday.
I am very well and thankful that I am here at all after my little escapade during the week. Also, I'm thankful that Spouse is speaking to me at all. He is … just. So, what happened to bring this state of affairs about?
Tuesday evening, a regular date in Spouse’s calendar - the Photographic Society meeting. An extremely enjoyable occasion, I gather, although I do not attend in the normal course of events. They run competitions with different themes and members submit their pictures. A visiting judge not only adjudicates but gives his comments on the content and composition of the photographs. The Society also organises outings to interesting venues so that all members have the opportunity to find their own, individual perspectives for their photographs. And they have educational evenings, where members can demonstrate new techniques and up to the minute technology.
Phew! Enough of that. I’m tired just thinking about it all. Anyway, last Tuesday was a sort of taster open evening for anyone to attend the meeting and see what it was all about. Now, bear this one in mind, dear reader - I did not suggest myself for this activity, Spouse suggested I go along and I might find a whole new world opening up to me.
In the interests of marital harmony, I decided I would go. Ha, ha. A lot of good it did me in that direction, I don’t think. The meetings are held in a room in our local Community Centre, so, living nearby we walked to it and I was made very welcome and enjoyed the evening immensely. Who knew there were so many lenses, stands, gadgets and gizwozes to aid the perfect photograph. Certainly not me and it was all fascinating. So far, so jolly good. And best of all from my point of view, a very tasty buffet supper accompanied by some very nice wine. What’s not to like, dear reader?
Only I think I liked it a tad too much which in turn puts a bit of a strain on the system. It was the end of the evening and I decided on a comfort break before the walk home. No problem, the lavatories were situated discreetly down the end of a long corridor and so I trotted off to make use of them.
Dear reader, when is there never a queue for the ladies powder room? Never, that’s when. As was the case on this occasion. Seeing the queue and feeling a little bit on the desperate side, I hot-footed it to the disabled lavatory. Through the deserted main hall and out to the other side of the building. Brilliant, it was free and no-one else was about.
Swiftly, I locked myself in and did what a gal had to do. Hands washed and blow-dried I was ready to leave. Only I couldn’t unlock the door. I do not know why, but the lock was stuck fast and so was I. I wrestled with it for some long time, but to no avail. Then I looked around me to see if there was any alternative way to escape, but there was not. The walls were solid up to the ceiling, so no battering my way out of here anytime soon.
‘Help’, I shouted. ‘Help’, at the top of my voice. ‘I’m locked in the lavatory. Help. I’m locked in.’ … Dear reader, I shouted myself hoarse for at least half an hour and no-one came to rescue me. No knight in shining armour, horse or no horse. No-one had missed me! I kept on shouting and banging on the door. I kept on trying the lock, hoping all my hammering on it might free it up, but no, it did not yield.
Eventually … and yes, it was eventually, Spouse turned up with John, the Photographic Society organiser and unlocked the door from the outside. Don’t ask me how they did it, I have no idea. I almost fell out of the door, so thankful was I to be finally out of that cubicle.
And were they sympathetic? Not on your nellie, they weren’t. Spouse was cross because he had been looking all over for me, even wondering if I’d just gone home on a whim. He was also extremely embarrassed to have such a daft wife in tow who could get herself locked in and have to be discovered by the revered Chairman too.
Spouse was embarrassed, I was embarrassed and everyone else thought it was hilarious. ‘Oh dear, what can the matter be … etc.’ followed me out of the building as Spouse silently frog-marched me home. ‘Can’t take you anywhere…’ was the theme next day and it was a long time before I was forgiven.
Needless to say, dear reader, I think it may be some long time before I darken the doors of the Photographic Society meetings again or any other meeting with Spouse alongside, for that matter. Hey ho, I can only hope lightning doesn’t strike twice .. even though it can.
